


AD ASTRA PER ESPERA

by keijisosamu (combustible)



Series: just a symbol to remind you that there's more to see (run me like a racehorse) - hp triwizard tournament au [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Homophobia (mentioned), M/M, Mentions of Struggling with Mental Health, Triwizard Tournament, Wilde 1997 Movie Gif
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 57,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27914965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combustible/pseuds/keijisosamu
Summary: “Miya?”“Beauxbâtons seeker?”or an hp!osaaka au (triwizard tournament style)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu, minor konokita sakuatsu ushiboku
Series: just a symbol to remind you that there's more to see (run me like a racehorse) - hp triwizard tournament au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046167
Comments: 41
Kudos: 199





	1. je tombe du radeau

**Author's Note:**

> this is a collab with mary on twt so if you wanna check her amazing art that goes with this fic you can find it on her [twt acc](https://twitter.com/WWX_twt).  
> updates are expected on the 6 / 13 / 20 / 25 and 31 of december.  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> season: fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo  
> i wish you all a great holiday season. i hope it'll bring you joy and hope <3
> 
> i had to make the hard decision not to make them their school's champions bc i simply cannot write a 200k cw work at this pace akdjsn
> 
> klaudia, scarves are the best items of clothing, discussing them with you just unleashed something in me, this is an ode to scarves. <3  
> mary, thank you a MILLION TIMES for working with me and my totally unhinged schedule!! ily
> 
> quick notes on this universe:  
> i won't follow the exact same timeline as hp4 (they arrive in september instead of october for example) ; harry and voldemort don't exist, there won't be wizarding war drama here. the tasks will be the same tho, with the last one being just a ""normal"" labyrith. but we're in 2010+ not in 1900s.
> 
> beauxbâtons has a system similar to the french educational system:  
> -first cycle : middle school (11-15)  
> -second cucle : high school (15-18)  
> -(optional) third cycle : cpge (18-20) it's a typical french thing, its like super advanced classes in your field, you can do it after high school instead of going directly to uni.
> 
> they aren't divided between houses, but are between the three main fields of study (rip): s (sciences), es (economics), and l (literature) that follows them from their second to third cycle.  
> -science students study potions and herbology + core subjects (spells, transfiguration, etc)  
> -economics students study muggle studies and dada + core subjects (spells, transfiguration, etc)  
> -literature students study history of magic and astronomy + core subjects (spells, transfiguration, etc)
> 
> for the different schools, i divided them like that:  
> Hogwarts: itachiyama+shiratorizawa+karasuno+nekoma  
> Beauxbâtons: fukurodani+seijoh  
> Durmstrang: inarizaki+kamomedai

\---

**ONE.**

**je tombe du radeau.**

( fall )

\---

_september._

“Do you think the rumours are true?” Konoha asks, sitting on the ground, in the middle of the ES common room. 

Bokuto allowed them to enter despite Akaashi being a Literature major and Konoha being a very proud-and-vocal-about-it _Science_ nerd; they’ve been travelling for two hours, the large windows only allowing them to see an endless sea of white clouds under the carriage. There’s no way for them to know how long they will still have to wait before they can finally land in Scottish territory. 

“Which ones?” Bokuto tilts his head from his usual armchair where he’s playing with the blue butterflies flying around him.

“That _the_ Miya Atsumu is coming to Hogwarts too.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Akaashi shrugs, “he’s 18, still studying at Durmstrang, I don’t see why he wouldn’t be there.”

“Maybe they also only allowed the best students to come,” Konoha suggests.

“Even then, it wouldn’t make sense for Miya not to be selected.”

Miya Atsumu, one of the world’s top Quidditch players, postgrad student at Durmstrang, was mainly known for his skills, his looks and being more popular than any other non-French player in France. Not necessarily in that order. 

Considering how Beauxbâtons chose the students who would be allowed to come to Hogwarts this year (selecting only athletes like Bokuto and cunning people like Konoha), Akaashi had no doubt that Atsumu would be allowed to come, considering he displays both of these characteristics at an almost divine level. 

“Even if he’s as dumb as a broom, he’s still physically stronger than most people our age. And more popular. It would be stupid not to select him,” Akaashi explains.

Although they don’t _really_ know what the Triwizard Tournament entails, it was pretty clear from their headmaster’s choices that the Champions were expected to run or fly or at least use their physical force. From all the selected students, most of them were already adults, between seventeen and twenty years old, with a sportive background and an insatiable hunger for victory.

Among these students, twenty of them were chosen to put their names in the Goblet of Fire- that’s where Akaashi comes into play.

 _(‘You will be of great help if one of your friends is chosen’_ the headmaster had told him one day, while he was sitting in his office, _‘both Konoha and Bokuto will be allowed to submit their name; and if one of them is chosen, I think they will have a greater chance of winning if you’re there.’)._

So, he knew he would never be chosen as a Champion; not athletic enough, not victory-driven enough- and yet, here he was.

“Why do you ask?” Bokuto finally turns his head to look at Konoha, “you want an autograph?”

“No, I want to kiss him,” Konoha deadpans, bringing his green tea mug to his lips, eyes dreamy.

“Get in line then,” Akaashi warns him with a small grin. 

He’s not _really_ into Miya Atsumu; but one has to be blind not to see how handsome he is.

-

It takes one hour more (two. but considering the different time zones, the last hour basically got sucked in by the void of mathematics; and never existed) to finally land on the ground in a loud cacophony of neighing sounds coming from their flying horses.

“We should change,” Konoha suggests when they’re finally steady on the ground. 

“Yeah,” Akaashi nods.

He and Konoha both stand up to leave the ES common room in silence to join their own dormitories. 

The Littéraires common room is _messy_ to say the least, and Akaashi kind of hates it, but he grew accustomed to it after a few years. It’s familiar enough for him not to mind it so much; the books sprawled around on the ground and the lingering _weed_ smell both makes his face frown and his heart warm in fondness. 

Climbing the marble stairs leading to the room he shares with Antoine and Charles, he finds out the place is already empty. Both his roommates seem to have left already, leaving the place a mess, as usual.

They normally have individual rooms (being only three men in their field, they don’t have to share a dormitory like other students) but this year, they’ll have to make do with what they have: three single beds, sitting next to each other. 

He throws his grey sweatpants on his bed to put his blue uniform on. Akaashi won’t be taking part in the parade anyway; so who cares if he looks _good_ or not? 

(He still lets Kaori apply some makeup on his eyes afterwards)

-

Bokuto looks good leading the twenty other students who were chosen to come to Hogwarts. It’s almost impossible to think that the man currently entering the Hogwarts Great Hall is the same one Akaashi used to see crying over his mathematics papers in the library when they first met. 

He and all the other people who ended up being chosen as _moral support,_ enter from the side doors, totally unnoticed by the other students; Akaashi could have sworn he saw a guy _drool_ while looking at Kaori.

Naturally, he goes to stand next to Bokuto on the right side of the staff table. They smile at each other, pressure finally sliding off from his friend’s shoulders. Konoha comes behind them, ‘nice work, Kou,’ he whispers, but their moment of glory is quickly stolen by a drumming sound coming from outside the entrance hall.

“And now, our friends from the North! Please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang,” the Hogwarts headmaster, an old slender woman with a green pointy hat, announces. 

The drums are coming closer now; and Akaashi smells it before he can see it, the scent of fire, ashes and smoke.

Their entrance is pretty similar to theirs, and because he knows only some people join the parade, he quickly glances at the side entrances where Durmstrang students are discreetly entering. 

But his eyes soon go back to the smoke invading the Great Hall. 

It’s only when most of it has disappeared that he can see them, around twenty men, dressed in red and black uniforms, marching towards them, feet hitting the sound in rhythm with the drums; heavy wooden sticks in hand, beating the ground in heavy _tump, tump, tump._

Akaashi doesn’t even notice that his heart has started beating at the same rhythm as their drumming, jumping, heavy in his chest, accelerating rhythmically along with their pace; 

No, he doesn’t notice anything,

Because his brain is one-hundred ( _100%)_ percent focused on what he is _seeing._

His eyes quickly shift from the leader of the small group (a small man with grey and black hair, with an impassible expression that leaves shivers down his spine), to the person walking next to him. 

And his eyes stay there.

Taller, broader, Akaashi doesn’t have to ask or even wonder to deduce who he is; not that he _knows_ the guy, but there’s no doubt: it's Miya Atsumu’s twin brother. 

And frankly, it’s not even because of the smoke that he stopped breathing for a second (although he would say otherwise). 

“He’s here,” Konoha whispers behind them, tearing Akaashi from his reverie;

His eyes promptly leave Miya-the-second’s body to switch further away from the group, looking behind them, finally lnding on Miya Atsumu _himself._

So, after a quick thought, maybe he wouldn’t say no to kissing Miya Atsumu, this still _very much stands._

But he would definitely say **_yes_ **to kissing Miya Atsumu’s brother. 

The group arrives in front of the staff table, standing in a tight line, and Akaashi is almost disappointed when he realises that Miya-number-two is as far away from him as possible, standing on the far left of the room. 

Atsumu finally joins the rest of the group and smiles at the headmistress who only stares blankly at him before greeting the Durmstrang headmaster with a polite nod. 

They all gather on the left side of the Great Hall before McGonnagall starts explaining what the Triwizard Tournament means. Hogwarts students seem to be the only ones surprised by the announcement since the French students already know the basics about what’s about to happen (potential near death experiences included); which gives him the opportunity to let his eyes wander back to the group of Durmstrang students, trying to localize Atsumu’s brother (just to look; to make sure he wasn’t dreaming when his brain came up with the words _‘damn.’_ ). He finally finds him, standing behind a blond girl;

And he’s looking right back at him with a small grin on his lips.

_Fuck._

\---

He’s sitting with Konoha and Bokuto at the Ravenclaw table when McGonagall announces Bokuto’s name; making him the first Champion to be chosen; the Beauxbâtons representative. Of course, Akaashi stands up with the other French students to applaud his friend as he leaves the table to shake hands with the British Sports Minister. 

If Konoha is disappointed, he doesn’t show it (deep down, even he knows that it’s better that way).

Akaashi could have been one of them; if he had _wanted_ to. He was already eighteen, was smart enough and powerful enough to stand a chance against most creatures. He could have been one of them; but there was a _fire_ missing inside of him, according to his headmaster, that made him an unfit candidate. 

It comes as no surprise when Miya Atsumu is the next one chosen to represent Durmstrang; and Akaashi sincerely wonders if anyone else from the Institute even had the courage to put their name in the Goblet of Fire. 

He tries to watch discreetly as his twin pats Atsumu on the back before he stands to join the staff table. Did _he_ put his name inside the magical cup? 

He doesn’t know the Hogwarts Champion; his name’s Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s sitting at the same table as the Beauxbâtons students, wearing a blue and bronze tie; a Ravenclaw, then. That's pretty much all he knows except that people seem to be happy about this choice because they cheer loudly for him.

They all disappear behind the staff table; and the dinner carries on as if nothing happened, maybe a bit louder than before. 

\---

He puts his quill down after writing the last paragraph of his conclusion; the moon is already high in the sky and the majority of the other students are already fast asleep. He quickly puts on his favourite sweatpants before putting his paper away in his school bag. Antoine and Charles are both already snoring; but maybe it’s the amount of caffeine he injected in his body, or maybe it’s the full moon; or maybe it’s just fate, but he already knows he won’t be able to sleep in this state. 

Too jumpy, too awake, his eyes too _open._

They’ve been in Hogwarts for two weeks and between Bokuto’s preparation for his interviews and Konoha’s usual shenanigans, he didn’t actually have time to do anything else other than be here for his friends. 

Which is fine really; 

He looks at his suitcase next to his bed and quickly decides it’s time for him to blow off some steam. Back in France, between fencing and flying lessons, he doesn’t actually need to go out and exercise, but now that he’s here- _yeah._

Taking his broom out of his suitcase, he puts on his warmest hoodie and silently leaves the bedroom. He’s heard Antoine leave at one p.m. the other night, so he knows no one will bother him, even if they notice him gone. They’ve been classmates for four years now, they wouldn’t betray him like that.

-

The wind against his face almost makes him moan when it hits him, a few meters above the ground. The night is dark, and apart from the full moon, there is no light source; the only sound in his ears is the wind when he pushes his broom to full speed. He closes his eyes for a moment, savouring the feeling of the cold biting his bare cheeks. 

When he opens them again and starts flying down, closer to the ground, he notices a silhouette walking towards him from the Quidditch pitch entrance. It’s the first time he comes here at night but he's still very much aware that it might be forbidden- _but he can still pull out the foreign student card,_ he thinks. Heart beating hard in his chest, he slows down, still a few meters above the ground.

Surprisingly, the person starts flying in his direction instead of gesturing for him to come down. It’s a man, according to his body shape, but he can’t really see his face. He’s too far below him, the shadows of the stands hiding his face. It’s only when he comes closer that he recognises him. 

_Oh._

“Miya?” Akaashi asks, finally flying down to come land on the grass

Under the moonlight, he could have been fooled, could have thought it was Miya Atsumu (after all, it’d be expected frol him to come to the Quidditch pitch at weird hours, right?) but he spent enough time watching the twins (the grey-haired one in particular) to know there are more differences between them than just their hair.

“Beauxbâtons seeker?” he asks, voice as deep as he imagined it would be.

_Beauxbâtons seeker?_

He doesn’t play for their team anymore since he entered his third cycle of study, taking fencing with Bokuto as his sports option instead. 

Miya-the-second must see the surprise in his eyes because he grins and admits with amusement in his eyes, “I used to follow the high school Quidditch scene because of ‘Tsumu, so I kind of recognized you.”

“Oh.”

“Sorry if it’s creepy,” he laughs and looks away.

“It’s fine, I just didn’t think a Miya would pay attention to our team.”

“We have to be careful about our rivals,” he winks at him and Akaashi can feel it _very intensively,_ when his heart misses a beat. “What are you doing here? Training?”

“Not really, I just couldn’t sleep. You?” 

If he knew a lot of things about Atsumu because of Konoha, he realises he doesn’t actually know anything about his brother. They’re twins, used to play together, but he doesn’t even know his name or his position. For all he knows, he might be a Seeker too.

“I come here every week to hit some Bludgers. It relaxes me.”

“You’re a Beater?”

“Nah, I’m a Chaser; have to play with ‘Tsumu and all. But it’s not interesting to throw Quaffles at unguarded goals.” 

Akaashi smiles softly and nods, “yeah, I can imagine.”

“You wanna play? I have ‘Tsumu’s set in my bag.”

_Konoha would be so jealous._

They end up only throwing the Quaffle back and forth between them, not even trying to score. But Miya’s throws become less and less easy to catch and Akaashi finds himself feeling tired even faster than expected, head slightly fuzzy when he flies up to catch the ball.

“I don’t want to be rude,” he says once they land on the ground, sweaty and deliciously sore from everywhere, “but I don’t know your name.”

“Osamu.”

“I’m Akaashi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Osamu smiles as he puts his broom back in his bag. 

“Likewise.”

They part ways without another word.

\---

“Oh, you’re back!” Osamu says with a big smile when he notices Akaashi already flying above the pitch.

Truthfully, he had wondered if he should have come another day, aware that Osamu may want to play alone- but he didn’t have _that_ much free time and Fridays were the only day he didn’t have class at eight in the morning, so Thursday nights were his best option to exercise a little- let his frustration out.

“I- Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t want to bother but it’s the only day I can-”

“‘t’s fine, it’s fine, I don’t enjoy playing alone that much.”

Akaashi smiles and watches him as he climbs on his broom.

“Will you go back to playing once you’re back to France?” he asks, getting the Quaffle out of his bag before throwing it in his direction.

“I- I don’t think so- I might still play with my friends, but not seriously,” he answers, “I gave up on Quidditch when I finished my last year of my second cycle. I’m focusing on fencing now.”

“Fencing? Nice.”

“Yeah, I like the idea of stabbing people better than pushing them from their brooms.”

“To each their tastes,” Osamu shrugs with a smile, hitting the ground with his foot to fly up. 

They’re flying side by side now; the air is still bearable on his face. He’s only wearing a knitted turtleneck, probably for the last time this year: the wind is definitely getting cold up here; although the British weather is better than the one he’s used to. After all, he spends most of his time in the Pyrénées, above the clouds, and for the rest of the year, he’s usually back home, in one of the coldest parts of France.

“What about you?” he finally asks, catching the Quaffle Osamu throws at him.

He doesn’t really follow the Quidditch scene anymore; doesn’t know any name apart from Atsumu because he is _insanely_ popular. 

“I stopped playing last year. Well I still play with Atsumu when we’re home, but otherwise I quit last year.”

“You didn’t want to become a pro?”

“Nah. It’s not my thing. Quidditch is just a hobby. It’s Atsumu’s reason to live or some bullshit like that. I just do it because I like playing with a team- and I like winning. But I didn’t want to go pro.”

“I see.”

“I’d rather work in the food environment; always wanted to open a restaurant or something.”

“Well if you ever consider French culinary schools, I’d be happy to teach you some French; and I could show you around.”

It’s a polite thing to say, but it holds more meaning than a spineless invitation. Most people would probably say this and never really mention it again; Akaashi would probably do that with anyone else, but there’s something in Osamu’s eyes (and his arms, and that just makes him _mean_ it. It’s not a promise just yet, but it’s surely more than just meaningless words.

Osamu slows down; they’re almost at the same level now, Akaashi flying slightly higher, Quaffle in hand. But still, they’re _close._ Too close, and suddenly he just can’t breathe, mouth slightly open- 

“You’re serious?” the other man asks, eyes widening slightly.

“I mean- if you’re ready to deal with _French people-_ What I mean is that you’ll always have a friend in France, if you ever come to visit.”

Osamu’s smile is so bright Akaashi almost forgets it’s the middle of the night.

And maybe it is a promise after all.

\---

_october._

So, it’s Atsumu’s birthday. Konoha whines about it all day, asking if he should tell him happy birthday _(‘Do you think I should go tell him?’ ‘Just go tell him, Akinori, he’s not going to bite you.’ ‘You sure about that?’ ‘No, but if he does I’ll make sure you never forget about it.’)._ It would be a lie to say that Akaashi doesn’t find this at least a bit amusing, considering the number of eye-contacts he has with said Atsumu’s brother on a daily basis. Across the courtyard, when they go back to their dormitories and exit the castle; when one of them is struggling with the fucking _moving_ staircases (why would they have a _personality?_ These fuckers are made of stone for Merlin’s sake!). 

The fascination Konoha has for Atsumu gets funnier every time he mentions it. 

So yeah, it’s Atsumu’s birthday. October 5th, one of the best Quidditch players of all time was born and Konoha will not let Akaashi _forget_ about it. What he doesn’t harass him with, is the fact that it’s also Osamu’s birthday; and it’s _Thursday,_ and Akaashi has no idea whatsoever of what he could give him as a 19th birthday gift. 

“If you had to get him a gift, what would you choose?” he randomly asks and Konoha smiles mischievously.

“My body and soul.”

Oh, he _would_ give Osamu his body, but maybe not as a gift.

“And a bottle of wine I guess, to remind him that I’m French and therefore the embodiment of _love and sex.”_

“Right.”

But Konoha is actually not as dense as he makes it look like.

That’s how he finds himself entering the middle of the Quidditch pitch; one bottle of champagne from his dad’s collection in hand. Antoine, he and Charles decided they would bring a lot of alcohol, considering the UK wasn’t known for having _affordable_ wine that wouldn’t burn down your insides.

Osamu is already there, flying down to meet him in the middle of the pitch. He's still floating a dozen centimeters above the ground, looking at what Akaashi holds in his hands with unhidden curiosity.

“Happy birthday,” Akaashi whispers with a small smile before handing him the neatly wrapped bottle, “I brought you a little something.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” Osamu says but his smile means _but I’m glad you did._

He unwraps the bottle in an adorable hurry and tilts his head when he discovers the green bottle of Champagne. 

“My father is a cellarman; I sometimes steal a few bottles from our basement. Not that he would notice.”

“A stolen gift? Why is this making it even sexier?”

It's the middle of the night so Akasshi's blush surely goes unnoticed.

“From my own house, it’s not that illegal.”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Akaashi,” Osamu laughs lightly, shaking his head. 

“I brought glasses too,” he points his thumb towards his backpack, “if you want to drink it now. I put a spell on it so it stays cold.”

“Ha! I’m certainly not sharing it with ‘Tsumu! Take your broom and let’s go!”

He can’t help the smile that spreads on his face when he crouches on the ground to search for his broom in his bag; he surprisingly doesn’t struggle to find it, despite his bag being full of totally useless things (meaning: Konoha’s stuff).

He taps the ground one time and flies towards the sky, quickly joining Osamu who's doing large circles above him. The wind is colder than last week, but he doesn’t really mind; he just leaves his coat on and braces himself for the biting cold that will soon assault his face. 

It’s okay, he’s used to it after years of Quidditch practice.

“So I guess you know how to open this?”

“Yeah.”

It doesn’t mean he’s not scared of blinding someone with the flying cork. It comes off surprisingly easily, with a small _pop._ And the champagne stays inside when he twists the cork away with care.

“My dad would do it without the scrunchy face,” he comments, almost like an excuse when he hands the bottle back to Osamu to retrieve the champagne flutes in his bag. 

“I think the scrunchy face is cute,” Osamu shrugs and Akaashi freezes for a second with the two glasses in hand- _cute._ Osamu just said- _oh well._

“It’s _unprofessional_ according to my father.”

“Yeah, but _this_ is personal.”

Suddenly, pouring the best champagne you brought to your year abroad in a cheap glass flute while looking at another man in the eyes, indeed feels like it’s the most personal thing Akaashi ever did with someone (and he had a boyfriend for two years back in his second cycle).

\---

“Atsumu wanted my broom for something. I don’t know what he's gonna do with it, but I’m happy with just watching you,” Osamu tells him when he arrives on the following Thursday. 

But he already had the time to fly around the pitch a few times, so he immediately lands next to the Durmstrang student.

“Nah, I’ll stay with you.”

They spend the night simply sitting on the cold grass, looking at the stars in comfortable silence. They’ve been meeting here for four weeks now, and it would be a lie to say he’s not looking forward to these nights as soon as they’re over.

“Do you study Astronomy in Durmstrang?”

“Only if you choose to. I didn’t. Took Advanced Potions classes instead.”

“What’s your favourite one?”

“Potion?”

“Yeah.”

“Amortentia.”

“How cliché.”

“I mean, why would I choose any other potion when I can have one that looks like salted caramel and smells like my favourite scent?”

“And what’s your favourite scent?”

Osamu turns his head to look at him like he wants to say something; but Akaashi only bats his eyes innocently. He’s just being curious, okay?

“Last time I checked, it smelled like warm bread and a cold night but it has probably changed since then. Do you know what yours smells like?”

“Unfortunately yes,” he still remembers that night when Konoha came into his room, making him smell a vial of Amortentia to check if he was still in love with his ex, “smelled like my ex boyfriend,” he admits in a whisper, eyes fleeing the other man, staring at the stars above them, at the Quidditch goals meters away. 

He thought about it before, about letting Osamu know, just to be clear, and maybe- maybe, to see if there was an opportunity for them, an open door of some sorts-

“Oh.”

“It probably doesn’t smell like him anymore, it’s been a long time now.”

But that’s probably not what Osamu meant by _Oh._

“You had a boyfriend.”

“Smooth way to ask, but yes, I did have a boyfriend.”

Sighing, he finally turns his head to look at him, scared of what he’s going to see- fear? disgust? It wouldn’t be the first time. Even though things have been getting better, there was no avoiding these types of reactions.

“And how was it?”

This time, he blinks; once, twice, thrice. _What kind of question is that?_

“Well we’re not together anymore, so I guess it wasn’t good, but it’s okay, I got over it.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have a problem with it?” he asks, rather harshly. 

There’s something that always comes with these conversation, a type of newly found fire, a need to confront the other, to let them know he won’t change, won’t bow down-

“I guess if you’re not together anymore, no. I don’t have a problem with it at all.”

He barely manages to hold back his gasp, but blinks the surprise away, finally smiling. 

“Yeah, I’m not with anyone at the moment,” _just so you know._

“Me neither.”

They both go back to looking at the sky, and when Osamu moves his hand so it comes to rest on wet grass, only an infinitesimal distance away from Akaashi’s fingers, letting him make the decision, he asks with an easy grin that doesn’t really manage to hide the nervousness in his eyes,

“And you? What’s your favourite potion?” 

“The Wideye Potion, I study late at night so I need to stay awake.”

“Unhealthy.”

“I have gluten-free regime to counterbalance this bad habit.”

Osamu laughs and Akaashi’s fingers cross the distance between their hands, the tip of his middle finger brushing lightly against the other man’s cold skin; and Osamu stops laughing, choking on his saliva. 

But his hand stays here. 

They don’t go further than just brushing the tip of their fingers, but Akaashi still feels the electricity there when he goes to sleep that night.

\---

This time, they’re back on the ground, simply watching the sky (the stars are completely covered by the clouds; so why are they even watching it?) (to avoid looking at each other, Akaashi refuses to acknowledge.), when Osamu’s stomach starts growling. 

“Are you hungry?”

“I didn’t have time to eat before coming here.”

Akaashi can’t stop his head from turning to stare at the man sitting in the grass next to him. _Miya Osamu, food aficionado, gave up_ **_eating_ ** _to come see him?_ He stares for a little while before Osamu finally shrugs.

“It’s alright, I’ll eat later, I have food in my room.”

“Do you want to visit our kitchens?”

It’s Osamu’s turn to stare with unhidden surprise.

“They’re not as big as the ones we have back in the castle, but they’re good enough that we can cook whatever we want.”

“You have kitchens in your carriage.”

“The first thing our headmaster told us when we arrived inside the carriage was ‘ _it’s British food, so if you need to eat something decent, I want you to be able to cook, even if it’s just an omelette’_ but I have to say I don’t really mind the Hogwarts food. It’s not that bad.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“No one will notice, it’s late and apart from some third cycle students, most people have classes tomorrow so they’re already asleep.”

“Okay.”

They walk side by side in silence, air cold in their lungs. But the wind isn’t as biting as it is up there, so it’s perfectly tolerable for them. Between Akaashi who is spending most of his time in the middle of the Pyrénées and Osamu being Polish, it takes more than a mildly cold wind to scare them off. 

Still, his hands being the only uncovered part of Akaashi’s body, they feel extremely cold without his gloves; he starts rubbing them against each other until Osamu stops next to him.

“Here, let me help.”

Their eyes meet; it’s not the first time he can feel the tension growing between them. He’s pretty sure Osamu feels it too when he grins at him before taking his hands between his own uncovered fingers- and their skins touch- and he’s bringing them closer to his face, brings them to his lips. 

He covers Akaashi’s hands with his before starting to blow warm air on his freezing fingers, making his skin burn; because of the sudden change of temperature; because his lips are brushing against his skin- and he _swears_ on his father’s cellar that he felt a light kiss being left on his knuckles, but Osamu’s eyes are already drifting away. He starts to walk towards the border of Forbidden Forest where the Beauxbâtons carriage is waiting for them.

-

“Here you go,” he smiles, putting a large bowl of onion soup in front of Osamu. He puts two handfuls of grated cheese inside the bowl before pushing it in his direction.

“Thanks.”

Between all the moments they’ve spent together, this is by far the most intimate one they've shared; there’s contentment on Osamu’s face, a sweet satisfied smile when the warm liquid travels down his throat. 

You can fly with almost anyone who shares your passion for Quidditch; but feeding someone? It requires more than just a common interest. 

“Don’t you want some?”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

When he’s done, he looks around him, watching the kitchens with curiosity. 

“You want to take a look at our fridge?” Akaashi suggests. 

The Durmstrang student nods; and he’s _beaming_ with joy although it’s probably way past midnight and he should be back on his boat already. 

None of them manage to leave thr kitchens before the sun starts to rise; and the sky is already painted in pinks, oranges and pastel reds when Akaashi walks him back to the entrance of the carriage. It’s far from being the best sunrise he ever saw; but it feels special nonetheless. Blame Konoha’s romantic bullshit for influencing him that much.

“Goodnight, Osamu,” he whispers when the other man crosses the door.

Stopping right on his tracks, Osamu turns on his heels and smiles at him, it’s soft, without any glimpse of his usual cockiness. 

“Goodnight, Akaashi.”

And of course, they stay there, unmoving, for a good ten seconds, only looking at each other, trying to find _the_ answer to their questions _(‘is it just me?’ ‘do you want it too?’ ‘would it ruin everything?’ ‘do you want me too?’)_ , trying to find a signal, even the smallest sign of a _yes, yes I want you too._

But the moment stretches for too long and when Akaashi notices their faces have moved closer, that their noses are almost touching, he jolts away, gasping; meeting Osamu’s questioning gaze. 

“Thank you for the soup,” Osamu finally whispers;

And Akaashi finally exhales.

“You can come back whenever you want.”

The Durmstrang student smiles one last time before leaving, for real this time. 

“So, that was _ridiculous,”_ Konoha’s voice comes behind him after he spends a few seconds just staring at the closed door. 

\---

Akaashi almost expects Osamu not to show up on the next Thursday; after his involuntary rejection, who would blame him? Certainly not Konoha who has been silently judging him for a week now. 

He has the time to fly around the pitch a few times before he sees a silhouette waving at him from the pitch. Flying down, he quickly recognises Osamu’s red DURMSTRANG hoodie. He finally reaches his level.

“Atsumu needed my broom again,” he simply explains.

What Atsumu’s deal with his brother’s broomstick is, Akaashi doesn’t know, but _well._ He needs to _fly_ tonight, can feel the need to just stop _thinking._ So, he can’t reasonably sit on the grass and watch the clear sky- not tonight. He needs to blow off _a lot_ of steam.

“I can stay here and watch you, I’m fine with-”

“You can fly with me,” Akaashi cuts him off before he can stop himself; he wouldn’t want to take back his words anyway. He has let his brain make decisions for him for far too long, almost letting it send a _rejection signal_ to Osamu last week- he won’t let that happen again.

“You- Okay.” 

He seems genuinely surprised by Akaashi’s proposal- but nods anyway, smiling when he hops on the broom behind Akaashi. It’s been a while since he last flew with someone else, so it takes a few minutes for him to find the perfect balance. But he’s still an almost-pro volleyball player; he knows how his broomstick works.

It shouldn’t take him more than a few seconds to adapt but to be completely honest, the hands Osamu puts on his waist- (which is a normal thing to do- it’s how you’re supposed to do it, okay? It shouldn’t surprise him- shouldn’t make his head spin) (but it does) the hands he puts on his waist just distract him too much for him to be really focus on his broom. 

But even once his broom is back under control, Osamu’s hands keep being _distracting._ They’re _big._ He already knew this, from that time he wrapped his finger between his, from all these times he spent _looking at them._ They’re big. He knows that; has known this since they first talked- and yet, feeling them and their weight on his hips- it just makes his brain completely short circuit. 

They’re not even gripping _hard,_ but they’re almost burning his skin even through the thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“Fuck, I should have brought a scarf, it’s cold up here,” Osamu finally says behind him.

“We can share mine.”

_Are you fucking crazy Keiji?_

But the words are out before he can stop and one of his hands is already undoing his scarf. The feeling of Osamu’s face that the back of his neck isn’t as warm, or burning as he expected, because his nose is _fucking cold._

“You’re freezing!”

“Yeah, well, it happens.”

Akaashi quickly secures the scarf around their necks before they start flying again- but the only thing he can focus on is Osamu’s chest against his back, his hands that are now resting on his stomach instead of his hips, the warm air that escapes his mouth when he breathes right against the back of his neck. 

“Mmmmh thanks- it’s warmer here.”

He laughs softly, slowing down before stopping in the middle of the field, many meters above the ground; and he gathers all the courage he has left to slowly turn his head, making Osamu move back a little, still stuck in his scarf. And their faces are only a few millimeters away from each other now; again. He can feel his breath against his upper lip, can feel his hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie slightly tighter. But more than anything else, he feels his own heart beating in his chest.

Osamu’s gloved hand coming to rest on his left cheek is the signal he needed, the one he’d been waiting for last week, the one he wanted right now. He simply nods before leaning closer, parting his lips just before they crash against Osamu’s. 

They’re chapped- nothing surprising considering the amount of time they spend flying outside in the middle of the freezing night- but it doesn’t matter, because Osamu gasps against his mouth, one of his hands quickly tightening around his waist as he pulls him closer, and the other one staying on the left side of his face. Akaashi just relaxes against his touch- simply allows one of his hands to leave his broom to come rest on Osamu’s leg. 

He doesn’t know how long they simply stay here, high in the sky, kissing with the moon for sole witness. He doesn’t know, doesn’t care, too hungry for more. And when they finally land on the ground, they keep kissing, soft and gentle until they reach the crossroad where they finally accept that they have to part ways. 

“See you on Thursday,” Osamu whispers against his lips before kissing him one last time.

It’s the first time they acknowledge their little routine, the first time any of them says it, although it’s been implied for weeks now.

“See you on Thursday,” he replies with a gentle smile, “don’t forget to bring your scarf next week.”

Osamu shrugs, “it worked out fine today though.”

“It did,” Akaashi definitely can’t find the strength to complain. 

It did work out fine, after all.

\---

_november._

He arrives after Osamu this time; and tilts his head when he notices the man is still on the ground, now wearing his thick Durmstrang coat. And _damn_ does red look good on him. Akaashi is somehow happy to see that even Miya Osamu is not immune to the November cold. He feels less bad for needing his scarf all the time now.

“Good thing I brought more than one scarf this week then,” Osamu notes, putting two thick wool scarves on the ground to avoid having to lay on the _fuckass cold ground._ Patting the place next to him, he grins at Akaashi.

“Are you staying here for Christmas?” he asks him once he joins him on the ground; and he realises the scarves have to be enchanted because he doesn’t even feel the cold, or the hard ground under him. It just feels soft and squishy under his ass. _Nice._

“‘Tsumu said he wanted to stay here to get ready for the Second Task but I think I’m going to head home for New Year’s; see my niece and all.”

“I’m leaving on the 26th of December to visit my parents; if you want to travel with me and spend a few days in France before going back to Poland.”

“I’d love to,” Osamu smiles softly.

“We can go on a short road trip; visit a few cities, I can drive us around.”

“You drive?” Osamu tilts his head, looking genuinely surprised. Yeah, wizards don’t usually have driving licenses.

“Yeah-” he lets out with a small breath, “my parents are- they’re muggles,” he admits in a short breath, “so yeah, I drive.”

He turns his head to look at the man sitting next to him, trying to assess his reaction. It didn’t really occur to him that he never admitted out loud that he was a muggle-born. But the possibility that he might be a blood supremacist- Well, for all he knows the Miyas could be-

“That’s so cool! I’ve only traveled by portkeys, I’ve never really sat through a whole journey until- well until we left the Institute to come here.”

Akaashi lets out a small breath, trying not to look too relieved. Osamu didn’t react like _some_ people would, like some people still did. 

“Isn't it hard? To be a muggle-born in France?” Osamu finally asks.

“Oh, you know, part of the French motto says that _blood is red_ and all; meaning they don’t acknowledge the different types of blood; they don’t see it because it’s just _red._ But not acknowledging it doesn’t mean the difference doesn’t exist.”

“Muggle-borns aren’t allowed in Durmstrang,” Osamu states, looking at the night sky, “I don’t know why they still haven’t changed that, considering both Beauxbâtons and Hogwarts accept them.”

“Where do they go then? They can still do magic even if they can’t _study_ it.”

“Well I don’t know _exactly,_ but one of our biggest Ministries is the one that deals with magical accidents affecting muggles; we have thousands of people working to fix the mess and obliviate the witnesses.”

“I see.”

“They do damage control instead of accepting them at the Institute.”

Akaashi grimaces and sighs, hugging his knees against his chest, watching Osamu attentively. 

“How did your parents react?” Osamu finally asks, drifting away from the obviously _heavy_ subject. 

“Well, they didn’t believe it at first, but once they visited the castle, they saw what the wizarding world was and they said I could go as long as I got my baccalauréat- the French Muggle national high school diploma. I graduated last year from high school in both the Muggle and Wizarding system.”

“So you can work in the Muggle world too?”

“Yeah- well I think most wizards just lie and compel muggles to hire them, so I would have been able to get a job in their world anyway. But I don’t mind, I like the Muggle world, I even miss it sometimes,” he smiles against Osamu’s neck, letting his body lean on his, “I’ll show you one day.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

He doesn’t know if it’s deliberate, but they never actually discussed the _future_ before, let alone _their_ future; until now, and if it scares him, he decides not to dwell on it for now. 

He will have all the time in the world to worry later, once he’s back to France, in a year, if they even keep doing this until next July.

\---

On the next Thursday, for the first time, they meet on their way to the Quidditch pitch. His heart skips a beat when he sees a silhouette standing a few meters away from him, until he recognises a Durmstrang coat and the familiar messy grey hair.

Osamu's fingers quickly find his hand once he joins him, looking at him with a soft smile. Walking side by side, he allows his head to fall on the other man's shoulder, on the soft fur of his coat. It’s almost like it’s been waiting here just for him to put his cheek against it, humming with contentment. 

They barely make it to the Quidditch pitch, stopping at the door where the players usually enter before a game, Osamu's hands pulling him against his chest, bringing his face closer to his. Their lips brush tentatively, before growing familiar again after a few kisses. It doesn't take long before he opens his mouth, ever so slightly, invitation going unsaid. Of course, Osamu's tongue is right here to meet his own when he gasps, hands wandering under the thick coat, under the hoodie hidden beneath the red fabric, finally touching his shivering skin. 

Of course they made out before. 

They're still eighteen and heated kisses alway end up with clothed grinding. They met a few times between their usual _Thursday meetings,_ at the back of an empty classroom, in a broom closet; for a quick make-out session that would end up in blue balls for the both of them. 

But tonight- tonight it's different, there's something more urgent. Hunger in their eyes. Their usual laziness is gone and forgotten, Osamu's hands quickly finding the buckle of his belt. They may not have all night, but they have enough time to go further than clothed grinding.

When he hears himself moan from the simple friction of Osamu’s hand on his still very covered dick, he realises it has been a _very long time._ Despite Konoha trying to set him up with other people, he always ended up declining their offers after a few dates. 

“Just so we're clear, I've never done this with a man,” Osamu warns against his mouth and Akaashi's breath catches in his throat at the admission. 

“That's fine, I'll guide you.”

“You-”

“I had a boyfriend a few years ago, remember?”

He's not sure talking about his ex is the best way to start this, but if Osamu needs some reassurance, he’s ready to sacrifice this night to discuss it with him. The other man stops for a second, visibly thinking about the new revelation. Akaashi takes a deep breath and puts his hand on his arm.

“But that's about as far as my experience goes,” he adds. 

He only kissed a few girls, had sex with his ex-boyfriend, and that’s all. So he’s pretty sure that in terms of _experience_ per se, Osamu is way more advanced than him. _Have you seen his arms?_

“I'm fine with not doing anything if you don't want to.”

“I want to. But I- I don't really know what I'm doing. I've only ever had girlfriends before-”

Their gazes never shift, never move away, and Akaashi is glad for this; when Osamu leans in, resting his forehead against his, he can’t help but think those girls were pretty lucky.

“I'm not an expert, Osamu. You probably have more experience than I do in terms of pleasuring other people.”

“Okay just- tell me if I do something wrong.”

“Don't worry,” Akaashi whispers quietly, takes his hand in his, leading him further away from the door, until they reach the middle of the pitch where the grass is soft and they can’t see the stands above them, only the moon and the stars.

“The light is better here. And I wanna see you,” Akaashi explains, going back to kissing him, to distract himself from the cold, to show him exactly _how much_ he wants it.

“Mmmh, hot,” is all Osamu can visibly muster because he closes his eyes directly after.

Akaashi gets closer, leaving a myriad of kisses down Osamu's uncovered throat _('did you forget your scarf again?')._ He can feel his heart beating hard under his lips, behind the thin skin of his neck, just before he takes a step back to take the scarves he's been hiding in his bag. He throws them on the floor, gently pushing Akaashi to make him lay down on the soft fabric.

It’s just like the last time; the wool is soft, and magically warm under him; and he almost melts when he lets his head fall back. It really feels like he’s laying on a cloud.

Their eyes meet for a brief moment before Osamu hovers over him, standing in front of the moon, and he looks _stunning,_ with a silver halo shining behind him. He goes back to his lips, hungrily kissing them; comes to kneel between Akaashi's now parted legs. 

They're still fully clothed, Akaashi still in his thick winter coat and hoodie, face half covered by his scarf and Osamu in his impressive red coat. When he starts to take it off, Akaashi promptly stops him.

“Leave it on,” he quickly interrupts him, realising he might be a bit too turned on by a mere _coat,_ “you'll catch a cold.”

Osamu laughs softly but shrugs, keeping the coat on. If he noticed the slight flush on Akaashi’s pale skin, he doesn’t say anything. And now, he's back to kissing him senseless, his dick pressing hard in his pants, heavy against Akaashi's thigh when he starts grinding his hips in the similar way they always did until- well until now. 

Because his face ends up sliding down his throat, leaving kisses on the few patches of skin he manages to access behind his scarf.

Frustration builds up inside him when he realises that's probably one of the only places he’s going to be direcly touched tonight, since they're outside in the fucking cold and there’s no way he’ll get naked in the middle of a Quidditch pitch.

Still, Osamu starts unbuckling his belt, stopping once the top of his underwear is visible, releasing some of the uncomfortable pressure he’s had to deal with each time they started to make out during the past few weeks. He keeps his pants mid-thighs before doing the same for Akaashi's own tight (outrageously tight) pants. 

The fabric that separates their dicks is now considerably thinner when he starts pressing their lengths against each other again, this time making Akaashi moan quietly. But each sound, each gasp, each ruffle of fabric, each itching breath, sounds one hundred percent louder in the silence of the quiet night.

“I want to suck you off.”

“You don't have to,” Akaashi says, but he's not sure he's not going to groan in disappointment if Osamu changes his mind.

“I do want to,” he affirms, with a mildly bored tone as he looks down on him with a neutral expression; this and the coat, and just knowing he’s _Miya Osamu,_ and he’s so big and broad above him is enough to make his head spin. 

It took two sloppy make-out sessions in an empty classroom for Osamu to understand that Akaashi was definitely getting off of him acting indifferent.

“Oh Merlin, then yes _please, go on._ ”

“Just tell me if I do something wrong.”

“Keep your teeth away and it'll be fine,” he's so turned on right now he's not even sure he would mind the teeth that much.

It's after humming in approval to this last warning that Osamu plants one last kiss on lips before sliding down his body. He pretty impressively manages to free Akaashi's now rock hard cock without having to struggle too much with his underwear and directly takes it between his lips.

He has a really hard time keeping still- but it's his first blowjob and it would be cruel to move right now. Instinctively his hand comes to rest in his hair, gripping gently to allow him some control over Osamu's movements.

“Yeah, like that,” he whispers when his lover starts to slide down on his cock, centimeter by centimeter, “take your- _ahn!-_ time.”

It's warm, and wet and there's not even _that much teeth._ And when he starts sucking, hollowing his cheeks with most of Akaashi's cock inside his mouth, he moans loudly, not able to stop his head from falling behind on the grass. He manages to keep his hips grounded; until Osamu starts moaning between his legs, obviously touching himself- _touching?_

“Don't come, I want to blow you too.”

Osamu _moans_ and puts his hand back under Akasshi's hoodie, scratching his hips hard enough to make his back arch both from the pain and arousal.

“Use your tongue,” Akasshi finally demands, breath unruly in his throat, the familiar pressure starting to build inside of him- “yeah like that,” he whispers when Osamu's tongue comes to touch the head of his cock, while sucking, and when he starts moving again, head going up and down and his tongue is still flat against the slit of his dick; Akaashi only has to take one look at him, in his fucking _red coat_ to feel himself falling- 

“Osamu I'm com-” he starts, his hand pulling at grey hair to avoid coming directly down his throat, but his lover obviously has other plans, because he just sinks in deeper, ripping a loud moan out of his mouth.

He throws his head back and comes on Osamu's tongue, eyes open, looking at the stars above them.

It's objectively not the best orgasm he's ever had. He has to admit that it's the best _first blowjob_ he ever had, though. But none of these thoughts cross his mind, because the only thing going through his brain at the moment is _‘need to choke on something- preferably a dick- preferably Osamu's’._ Good thing Osamu's dick is there, waiting for him then, right? 

He doesn't even make him lie down, simply sits up, and the feeling of Osamu's burning gaze almost makes him grow hard again. Still kneeling on the soft scarves, he watches Akaashi move until he's facing him, sitting on his ankles, eyeing his impressive length with fire in his eyes.

“Can I?”

“ _Please,_ I think I might die if you don't,” is the only consent he needs before he takes him in, in one go, moaning when he feels the weight of his length against his tongue, “ _oh fuck Akaashi!_ ”

Both his hands land on his head, gripping his hair tightly, _‘sorry’,_ he says when his hips jolt up uncontrollably, making his cock touch the back of his throat.

Akaashi lets go of his dick for one terrible instant just to reassure him, voice raspy from being fucked even if only for a few seconds, “you can be rough I like it.”

_“Ohmygod.”_

This time, the hands in his hair are more controlling, pull his face closer, until his nose is buried in pubic hairs and his smell just fills him, sourronds him; it’s the only thing in his mind right now, and he _fucking loves it_. He missed it so much, the smell of sex, the feeling of his eyes watering, the weight of a hard dick inside his mouth- it's just so fucking good, and Osamu's hands keep him _there_ , he can't move unless he starts to struggle against his grip- and the thought of it is incredible. 

_He wants that man to fuck him into oblivion as soon as possible_ , is the thing that goes through his mind when Osamu finally stops fucking his face, coming hard inside his mouth, tensing with a long moan, whispering a strangled version of Akaashi's name.

They stay still for a few instants, their breathing irregular before Osamu takes a step back, pulling out of his mouth, ripping a small moan out of the smaller man. He quickly comes to lay down next to him, eyes half closed. 

“So? Was it alright?”

“Mind Blowing.”

“Good to know.”

He grins and starts opening his coat, unfastening one button after the other to finally take it off his shoulder and put it over their bodies. 

_So that’s what students from the north wear when it’s cold._

It’s heavy, but not crushing, and it’s warm, and soft, and it feels like a blanket on him, except it smells exactly like Osamu. And the contrast with cold wind that is still blowing on his face makes it even comfier.

“ _thinkmgonnafallasleep_ ,” he mumbles, and Osamu laughs quietly next to him, kissing his temple before whispering.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wake you up in a few minutes.”

\---

The last weeks of November hit them like a train; they barely get to meet outside of their usual Thursday nights anymore, too busy going to class, trying to help Bokuto and Atsumu with the Triwizard Tournament to do anything more than stealing quick glances at each other.

Sometimes they allow themselves the freedom to sit at the Hufflepuff table together in the morning, share a quick breakfast before the Great Hall gets too crowded with people. They just eat together, Akaashi on one side, Osamu sitting more on the left, on the other side of the table. 

The only person who knows about them is Konoha. And he’s definitely not the person who will wake up early to have breakfast _(‘I only need a coffee and a cigarette in the morning and I can take them here,’_ he told him the first time they met; it’s still very much true even five years later), so he can’t compromise them. 

To anyone entering the Great Hall it’d look like they’re just sitting here, both minding their own business, until they’d start chatting quietly. 

But they still have their Thursday nights, even if they have to not sleep on the day before, they both make sure they at least have that. 

“Hi,” Osamu whispers right into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. It’s still a mystery how they’ve never been caught sneaking out of their dormitories. But they’re both adults so they shouldn’t be punished for trying to blow off some steam on the Quidditch pitch, right?

“Hey,” Akaashi turns around, softly placing a kiss on his lips, “you look tired.”

“‘m fucking exhausted.” 

The light only comes from the moon and the LUMOS at the tip of their wands, but he can still see the dark circles under Osamu’s eyes, the worn out expression on his face. And Akaashi knows he’s pretty much the same.

They simply sit next to each other, on Osamu’s scarf, in the middle of the pitch, looking at the stars, with Akaashi’s face tucked under his lover’s chin. They don’t have the energy to make out tonight, satisfied with lazy kisses and soft touches. 

_‘A dragon_ , _do you know that your brother will have to fight off a dragon?’_ he wants to tell him, when their eyes meet- _‘do you know how dangerous this whole shit it?’_

But he remains silent- and on the other side of that metaphorical bridge, he knows; sees, that Osamu is thinking exactly the same thing; a tough reminder of who they really are, outside of these meetings. 

Strangers, rivals, enemies.

\---

Turns out they were right about the dragon. 

Turns out the three champions were actually aware that there would be dragons involved because none of them looks surprised. 

When Miya Atsumu summons his broom, Akaashi allows himself to look at where Osamu is sitting. He’s not looking at him (of course not, his twin brother is fighting a mother fucking dragon, it’s only fair that he’s not watching Akaashi’s face), and from what he sees, he doesn’t look worried at all- Miya Atsumu on a broom is 100% more powerful than Miya Atsumu on the ground, and he already looks pretty damn scary on his feet. He manages to take the golden egg in three minutes, with only a side of his robes getting burned; making almost everyone gasp when he almost falls from his broom. 

Bokuto’s up next, and Akaashi is pretty proud of the strategy he came up with. He watches him summon his foil, put his wand inside the sword he usually uses to annihilate Akaashi at fencing. He takes a deep breath when his friend actually starts running towards the dragon. He aims for the eyes like Akaashi told him to, one red spell finally hitting the creature’s eyeball before he stabs the other one in a swift movement. He doesn’t wait until the dragon has recovered, directly taking the egg from under its wriggling tail and runs away. _‘Two minutes and forty-eight seconds’_ the commentator announces.

He doesn’t resist the urge to grin at Osamu who stares back before rolling his eyes. 

Sakusa ends up on a broom as well, and when the fucking dragon breaks the chains that were holding it, Akaashi thinks that maybe that’ll give Beauxbâtons the opportunity to even the scales with Hogwarts in their Triwazard Tournament history; but he quickly goes back to his senses, silently hoping that Sakusa does not, in fact, end up dying. 

(He survives, scores an honorable _‘seven minutes and fifty-six seconds’_ score.)

(Bokuto wins the first task, Konoha is the one who organises the party, and the rest is history.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!!!!!!!!  
> NEXT PART: WINTER, YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?????????????????? YEEHAW
> 
> KLAUDIA!!!!!!!! i hope u are ready for YULE BALL SKATS BC THEYLL BE HERE WHOOOOOOP


	2. au pied des montagnes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> season: winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello <3  
> we are back with a new chapter that is longer than what i expected (i should be used to it by now)  
> klaudia, enjoy the skats crumbs, more details are coming soon.
> 
> i hope you will enjoy this season.

**\---**

**TWO.**

**au pied des montagnes**

_(winter)_

\---

_november._

Friday has arrived; the first snowflakes begin to fall soon after the first task is over, covering the Scottish grounds in a soft white blanket. Akaashi is completely oblivious to it, until Konoha loudly barges into his bedroom with Antoine and Charles’ help. 

He only came back to his room early in the morning, after his usual Thursday meeting with Osamu, meaning he is still fast asleep when his best friend wraps his stupidly long arms around him with a long whine.

It shouldn’t bother him that much; Konoha hugs him often enough for both Bokuto and him to be totally immune to his touch by now. It shouldn’t bother him, but today, Konoha is wearing his blue winter coat, and he very obviously already went outside because he’s _covered in fucking snow._

“WHAT THE HELL?” Akaashi yells, opening his eyes, throwing Konoha off of him as soon as he feels the cold melted snow dripping on his naked chest.

“IT SNOWED! Come on, hurry up, Bokuto’s already outside, and he’s alone facing some Hogwarts students in a snow fight, we need to go help him.”

Akaashi groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, but obeys anyway, putting on his thickest jumper and his winter coat under the excited stare of his friend.

“You coming?” Konoha asks his roommates who grin at him with carnal hunger.

That’s how the five of them find themselves in the middle of a snow fight near the lake where other students are peacefully ice-skating. 

It doesn’t matter if most of them are shouting in French, in Spanish or German at people who probably only understand English. Cursing words are absolutely universal and there’s no doubt that even the Hogwarts students understand Konoha’s loud _nique sa mère._

\---

It’s early in the morning when Monsieur De Colnet makes them all gather in the main hall of the Beauxbâtons carriage, requestion all fifty tired students wake up on a Sunday before the sun even rises. They’re all standing in tight ranks when he finally appears, Madame Dalmas, their History teacher, walking behind him with her usual severe appearance. 

“Good morning,” he greets them with a harsh nod, “as you know the Holiday season is approaching. It is a tradition during the Triwizard Tournament for the hosting school to organize the annual Yule Ball that will allow all of us to socialize with our Durmstrang and Hogwarts counterparts.”

A few excited gasps are heard, and Akaashi can only imagine what Konoha’s face must look like at the moment.

“It is very similar to our own Christmas Ball, although much less- _fancy,_ if you ask me. It will start at eight o’clock on the 25th of December, in the Great Hall. You will still have the opportunity to take the portkeys leaving for France on the 26th if you wish to.” 

He falls silent, looking at all his students for a long minute, before sighing.

“I know you are used to these types of events, so I do not think it is necessary to remind you that you are representing our school, and we are expected to embody the _élégance à la française_ that we so dearly love.”

Apart from the official ceremonies, Beauxbâtons does not require its students to wear uniforms, making them attend classes in their own clothes, highlighting how important it is to let their students express themselves in any way they wish to. 

A very flawed statement considering how people wearing Muggle clothes are treated by their pure blood classmates, but still. 

“Bokuto, the champions and their partner open the ball,” he continues, looking right at the Champion.

“Sure.”

They’re used to it, the dancing, the parading, the extravagant shiny outfits; and especially after fighting a dragon, there’s no way Bokuto would end up being scared of an innocent dancing party.

“I want you to know that I will defend you, whoever you choose as your partner, okay?”

“Thank you, Sir.”

The headmaster smiles at his student and finally looks back at the rest of the group, eyes sharper now.

“That will be all. Don’t forget to study hard for your exams, we won’t be more merciful just because we are in foreign surroundings.”

He disappears in his office, Madame Dalmas behind him; as soon as the door closes, the room gets filled with loud chatting sounds. 

“So, who are you going to invite?” Konoha asks, once the three of them are back in Bokuto’s room. 

“I don’t know. Maybe that Hogwarts guy I played against last week.” Bokuto muses, eyes thoughtful, “I think he was staring too, don’t know if it’s because I dodged his Bludger or because I’m good-looking.”

Unlike Akaashi, Bokuto chose to take both Quidditch and fencing as his sports option. Considering this year’s setting, he took the opportunity to train weekly with students from the other schools (including: Miya Atsumu, to Konoha’s biggest despair), saying it would definitely help him to up his game once back home.

“Aren’t you afraid that people are going to make fun of you?” Akaashi asks.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” 

Bokuto shrugs, carefree and completely uninterested in things as trivial as other people’s opinions about his sexual preferences.

Of course, it was established for all the Beauxbâtons students that Bokuto Koutarou was gay. Most people didn’t even bat an eye at him inviting another man to the school’s official ceremonies anymore. But here, in an unknown environment, _well,_ things weren’t as easy. 

Not that it matters to Bokuto, apparently.

“What about you?” Konoha turns to look at Akaashi.

“I don’t know.”

“I think I’m going to go alone,” Konoha announces, grinning deviously. 

“And who are you going to dance with?”

“Who needs a dance partner when you have free alcohol and free food? I’ll find someone there who was abandoned by their partner. Don’t worry, I’ll get laid easily enough.”

“Undoubtedly,” Bokuto nods, his eyes closed in total approval.

“Thanks, bro,” he gives Bokuto two thumbs up before turning towards Akaashi. “Are you going to invite some random Hogwarts girl?” 

There’s a minute of silence; Konoha lets his thumbs down and Akaashi sighs.

“Aki.”

“Keiji.”

“Are you asking me to invite some random girl whom I will abandon after one dance, just so you can have sex with her?”

“No?”

“You sure?”

“Maybe?”

Akaashi groans.

\---

_december._

With his last Magical Philosophy exam done, Akaashi finally has some time to breathe again. 

Wandering between the alleys of the Hogwarts library, trying to find some books he never got to put his hands on in Beauxbâtons, his eyes land on a familiar silhouette at a table not so far away. He shouldn’t have been able to recognize him like that- but he’s whipped, and there’s no way he’s denying it now.

Osamu is sitting there, surprisingly alone, a pile of books next to him and a piece of parchment paper under his head. Once he gets near the table, Akaashi notices that his eyes are very much closed and that he’s snoring softly. 

_Cute._

“Miya,” he says quietly, but it doesn’t even make him stir, “Osamu,” louder this time. 

He sits across from him, pulling the chair in a loud grinding sound that makes the Durmstrang student immediately jump on his seat. 

“Morning,” Akaashi grins once Osamu’s still half closed eyes settle on him.

“Mmmmh.”

“Tough night?”

“Yeah, I have my last exam in two hours.”

“What subject?”

“Healing Potions.”

“Sounds hard.”

“Not my favourite subject,” Osamu admits, looking down at his parchment paper, scribbling some words in the left corner, “but I should do alright.”

“DoyouhaveapartnerfortheYuleBall?” Akaashi finally blurts out, looking purposefully at the pile of books written in the Polish alphabet, meaning he can’t even pretend to understand what he’s staring at.

“Excus- _Oh.”_

“It’s fine if you do,” he hurriedly adds. 

He hadn’t meant to ask him _like that,_ but with exams and the snow, their Quidditch Pitch meetings ended up being cancelled. Which meant they didn’t have time to really see each other much lately. 

“Uhm.”

Osamu puts his black and silver quill down on the table and sighs, lips tightly pursued in an apologetic smile. 

“I- Well, you know when I said that Durmstrang didn’t allow Muggle-borns to study there?” Akaashi nods, scared of where he was leading him with this, “although most wizards don’t really have conservative views on the topic anymore; my family does.” 

“Oh.”

“I guess I could pretend I didn’t know you were a muggle-born, if anyone were to tell them something. But- But I can’t really hide the fact that you’re a man,” he adds the last sentence in a whisper, sighing as he speaks. “I’m sorry.”

“It's fine,” Akaashi tries to smile, thinking about putting his hand on his like he wants to, like he’s craving to; but it would be inappropriate, especially after what he just said.

“I guess I'll invite some random Durmstrang girl who wants to get into 'Tsumu's pants and dance a bit with her. I wanted to warn you but with the exams-”

“It's fine, Osamu. I understand,” he quickly cuts him off.

But, does he, really? Objectively, yes, he does. Not everyone has the chance to have his parents, to be born in an open-minded family, to have friends who are probably more into men than him; he knows that. He came out for the first time so many years ago he doesn't even really remember how he felt (lost, sad, angry, for sure). His friends learned about the news when he started dating his first boyfriend, his parents- well, despite it being a big step for him as a teenager, the thing went so smoothly he really doesn’t remember having _the talk,_ maybe they just knew, maybe he unconsciously forgot about the memory for all the distress it caused him. 

The important thing being: as much as he theoretically gets Osamu’s situation. 

Doesn’t mean he has to like the consequences.

“I'm sorry,” Osamu repeats, voice weaker this time.

“Hey,” he listens to his instinct this time, for once and slowly slides his hand on Osamu’s bigger one, caressing his palm with his thumb, gently, as reassuring as he can; his eyes are just so _sad,_ so apologetic, there’s no way he could blame him for any of this, not in a rational way, "it's fine, Osamu. I don’t blame you for this."

"I wish I could. I would- you know I would go with you and say yes in a heartbeat-"

"If I were a girl."

"If no one else was watching,” he corrects him, shaking his head, “if my family wasn't like that- I would have invited you days ago."

Akaashi laughs softly, “well sorry to be so slow.”

He can feel Osamu’s hand relaxing under his and when he intertwines their fingers, there’s a bit more warmth in his eyes, a gentle smile on his lips; not quite happy yet, but less sad at least.

Maybe he will have to invite Konoha’s hookup of the night, after all.

\---

“So, do you know if you’re interested in anyone?” he finally asks Konoha one morning, after he drank his first coffee of the day (without the cigarette, he’s trying to quit for the tenth time this year), as casually as he can.

To be fair, they have a pretty well-rounded method made perfect by years of practice: Konoha would woo the person he was interested in, tell them Akaashi was too shy to ask them out himself, saving Akaashi from ridiculizing himself trying to ask someone he had no interest in on a date, and allow Konoha to make his presence known. 

Supposedly, it was perfect.

“Yeah.”

“You want to use me?”

“I thought you had a potential partner? Got rejected?”

“Ooof, don’t be so mean at eight in the morning, Aki. No, he just doesn’t want to be outed- which, _fair enough.”_

“Yeah. Well, there’s this girl from Durmstrang...”

This is how Akaashi Keiji finds himself a date. 

And if he still wonders why Konoha doesn’t directly invite her to go with him instead, he doesn’t voice it. At least, he has a date, right? Konoha will have a good time if he manages to win her favour, and Akaashi won’t have to worry about going to the ball alone; which is something that Konoha obviously doesn’t care about _(‘so I can end the night with whomever I want’_ being his usual excuse). 

Her name is Alisa, and she smiles at him when Konoha goes to talk to her. She nods with an enthusiastic smile and that’s about it.

\---

“WE’RE GOING TO MAKE HIM REGRET NOT GIVING SOCIETY THE MIDDLE FINGER!”

“Aki-”

“YOU’RE GOING TO BE SO SEXY HE’LL NEVER FORGET YOU!”

“Aki-”

“IF I HAVE TO PUT YOU IN FISHNETS AND NOTHING ELSE, I WILL DO IT!”

“Please, no,” he groans, closing his eyes behind his fingers to prevent the upcoming headache from taking over his brain.

As soon as he told Bokuto and Konoha about Osamu’s rejection (without pronouncing his name even once) (that’s how he found out that Konoha didn’t get to see Osamu’s face when he caught them back after their onion soup rendez-vous), Konoha had decided he was preparing for war. 

“What’s the problem with sexy fishnets?”

“What’s the problem with sexy fishnets?” Akaashi parrots back, rolling his eyes. 

Konoha hands him a pair of very revealing black fishnet tights and smiles mischievously at him.

“Put them on.”

“No.”

“Put them on, then we can discuss the rest.”

“I hate you,” Akaashi mumbles and takes the pair of fishnets, looking pointedly at Konoha who turns around to stare at the wall while he dresses up. “Here, happy?”

“Mmmmmh,” Konoha _observes_ him and suddenly he thinks he can understand what a piece of meat feels like when displayed behind a shop window, “you sure you want to keep your underwear?”

“Aki.”

“Keiji, dear. This is the only time in your life you’ll be able to do things with no real consequences. Sure, if you’re too careless, it can bite you back in the ass, but you can at least let go for a bit. No one will judge if you want to try new things here.”

Akaashi puts his hands on his hips, and he forgets for a second that he’s almost naked except for his underwear and the black fishnet tights.

“I won’t go commando,” he declares. 

Konoha might do it sometimes for the _thrill_ of it or whatever it is that he likes in feeling the fabric of his tight jeans on his dick, but _Akaashi_ won’t do this, doesn’t think he could look at anyone in the eyes if he ever decided to not wear _anything._

“Okay. But you can still wear something else than your regular underwear, _spice it up a bit._ ”

“And how’s that going to seduce anyone? They won’t see my underwear.”

“It’s in the _attitude,_ kitten. If you put something sexy, you’ll feel sexier.”

“Or I’ll disintegrate because of the shame.”

“There are two types of lingerie wearing people. The naturals, like me,” he shoots him a bright grin that makes Akaashi groan in disgust, “and people like you, who have to get used to it. But from my experience, once you get used to it, there’s no turning back for folks like you.”

“And how does one get used to it?” 

Why does Konoha always have this stupid effect on him that turns him into some brainless human being? Why does he always end up believing that Konoha might be right even if everything else screams the contrary? Why Konoha? Why their relationship? _Ugh._

“You start wearing them every day to get used to the feeling.”

He says this like he would tell someone the sky is blue; and Akaashi shakes his head, laughing nervously. 

But he’s going to do it, isn’t he?

“So, what else are you going to wear?” Konoha asks as he goes back inside his portable wardrobe.

“You know I could just put on one of my regular suits.”

“Absolutely not.”

There’s nothing wrong with his _normal_ suits, except for the fact that they’re _normal;_ and Konoha is on a mission now. 

Akaashi snorts and sits on his friend’s bed, still wearing nothing but his revealing tights, waiting for Konoha to throw sparkle dresses and green suits at him.

\---

They start by choosing a few pairs that they order from Konoha’s favourite lingerie shop. By doing this, he unfortunately finds out that his best friend is really into _latex_ ; shaking his head he points at the lace panties instead. There’s no way he’s going to start this by wearing latex, thank you very much. 

“They make vibrating panties too.”

“No way, Akinori, there’s no _fucking_ way.”

“Okay, okay, normal lace it is, I got it, one step at a time.”

He circles the right size with his red pen and looks at Akaashi, as if he’s trying to read his mind. 

“Black, white and dark blue, I suppose?”

Akaashi’s breath is stuck in his throat for a second; when he exhales, he looks back into Konoha’s eyes, trying to keep a neutral face. But he can’t fight the blush that spreads on his cheeks despite his efforts.

“And the dark red one.”

 _“Spicy,”_ Konoha laughs, circling the four colours before folding the coupon and putting it in an envelope. “Here, put the money in and give it to _Plumeau,_ the parcel should arrive tomorrow morning. Don’t worry, it’s very discreet.”

Akaashi nods, taking the letter. 

The path to the aviary is slippery under his feet, ice already threatening to break his ankle just with its existence. The stairs are murderous. There’s a reason why the Beauxbâtons aviary has a magical elevator. 

“Akaashi?”

He looks up where Osamu is standing, at the top of the stairs, grinning at him. 

“Miya?”

“We’re alone here, no need to call me by my family name.”

Akaashi shrugs, fingers tightening around the paper hidden in his pockets; he’s already blushing just thinking about what he’s about ordering. He isn’t even wearing the lingerie yet, only ordering it- _Konoha’s the fucking worst._

“How are you?” he finally asks when he reaches the top of the stairs smiling shyly at the Durmstrang student.

Miya Atsumu might be intimidating, but Osamu has nothing to be ashamed of compared to his brother. It’s the stupid coat, Akaashi assumes, but the cold eyes, the bored expression and the broad shoulder sure as hell help too. It’s a mix between the image of the shameful secret he’s hiding inside his pocket, and the one of Osamu standing two stairs above him. But more than that, it’s the knowledge that the two images are very tightly linked, that makes his head spin before he blinks, trying to _focus._

He realizes then that Osamu has stopped speaking, obviously waiting for him to speak- what did he say again? _okay,_ realistically, he probably asked back how he was-

“‘m fine,” he tries.

“You sure? Your face is pretty red.”

“It’s the cold,” he lies with all the confidence he manages to gather.

“Sure.”

Akaashi laughs nervously- Osamu’s not buying it, but he doesn’t insist. Thanks, Merlin.

“Do you have an owl?” he asks, more to fill the silence than because he’s really interested in Osamu’s answer; not that he doesn’t care, but right now, his mind is more focused on the thing he’s trying to hide in his pocket, okay?

“No, I use the ones from school, or ‘Tsumu’s eagle. But I have two rabbits.”

Well, he wasn’t expecting Osamu to have rabbits, but this revelation does bring a smile to his lips, allowing him to forget about what he’s hiding in his pocket for a while.

“I have one, do you want to meet him?”

“Sure.”

They enter the aviary side by side and Plumeau immediately flies down to land on Akaashi’s right shoulder. He gently scratches the top of the spectacled owl’s head before extending his arm. The creature immediately goes to stand there, claws only piercing through the thick fabric of his coat.

“Hi beautiful,” he whispers to his owl who squeaks back softly, shaking his dark wings. It’s a rather small bird for its kind that his parents bought him for his second year at Beauxbâtons. 

“Say hi to Osamu.”

Plumeau squeaks louder, tilting his small heat, large yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at Osamu. 

“Osamu, say hi to Plumeau.”

Osamu looks at him first, visibly intimidated by the small bird, before bowing his head in front of the squeaking owl. “Good afternoon, Sir.”

“He’s not a Hippogriff,” Akaashi laughs quietly but Plumeau apparently likes the respectful greeting because he starts squeaking louder and louder, feathers flying everywhere as he bats his wings in contentment. “Well, maybe he likes to believe he is,” he says, which earns him an outraged cheep from the bird, “can you deliver this for me?” he finally asks, showing the bird his letter, taking care of hiding the address from Osamu. 

The owl stares blankly at him.

“I know you can, but be careful, there are many eagles here.”

Another outraged squeak.

He ties the letter to his owl’s leg and elevates his arm, watching him fly through the large windows of the aviary. 

“It’s a beautiful animal.”

“You should have seen him when he was a baby. All white and judgemental. Now he’s black, white, and judgemental.” 

No wonder why Plumeau likes Konoha better than him; Akaashi can’t even count the number of times both Konoha and Plumeau simply stared at him with a look of _burning disapproval_.

Bokuto really was his only nice friend.

\---

“I can’t wear this,” he sighs, looking at the four pieces of lingerie on display in front of him. 

What went through his head when he chose the red panties, anyway? The white ones look absolutely sinful, sitting on red crêpe paper. The only ones he could maybe see himself wearing are the black ones; and even then-

“You can, and you will.”

“Why did I agree to do this, again?”

“Because you like challenges, and I think deep inside you wanna see what it feels like to be a bit less _lawfully good.”_

“Don’t use Dungeon and Dragons vocabulary on me, Aki.”

As a great half-blood, Konoha knew a lot about both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds, which was of great help when they had to explain stuff to Bokuto about phones and other muggle-typical devices.

Speaking of Bokuto, the four lingerie pieces are still laying on Akaashi’s bed when he barges in, yelling with a bright smile on his face.

“USHIJIMA SAID YES!”

Konoha joins him immediately in a celebrating dance, completely ignoring Akaashi’s mortified face.

“What’s this?” Bokuto asks once his eyes land on the orange box and the panties.

“Nothing,” Akaashi quickly answers, but they all know it’s too late.

There’s an awkward silence that extends for a whole long minute before Bokuto finally moves to sit on the bed next to his friend, looking thoughtfully at the lingerie.

“So, you’re into lace?” Bokuto asks innocently, now staring unabashedly at Akaashi’s burning face.

Groaning, he puts the lingerie into the box and stands up to put it under his bed.

\---

It doesn’t itch as much as he was expecting it to; it’s definitely lighter than his usual underwear, making him feel every friction of his pants against his skin. He feels more exposed, and he’s sure that anyone looking at him as he walks through the hallways might see exactly how naked he feels under his black jeans. 

Three heavy books squeezed against his chest, he hurriedly enters the library to give them back to the librarian after reading them all the night before. 

“We keep meeting here,” Osamu’s voice comes from behind him as he looks through the astronomy volumes. 

“Didn’t take you for a bookworm.”

“I only read books about potions. They have volumes we can’t find in Durmstrang, so I thought I might as well try to read them all while I’m here- Are you alright? You’re really red.”

 _It’s the cold,_ won’t work this time, so he shrugs and looks at the floor tiles.

“Had to run to avoid Konoha on my way to the library.”

“I see.”

All of these efforts, all this hurried walking to avoid as many people as possible so they wouldn’t notice him acting weird because he’s wearing fucking lace panties, all of this _ruined_ as soon as Osamu’s eyes land on him. 

If he felt naked and exposed before, he feels like he might pass out from embarrassment right now. 

“Are you free this weekend?” Osamu finally says.

“Excuse me?”

_Get a grip, Keiji, oh my god._

“Are you free this weekend?”

“Uhm. Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me? Apparently it’s where most Hogwarts students do their Christmas shopping.”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

“Aren’t you scared someone will see us together?”

Osamu smiles sadly, quickly shrugging the apologetic expression off.

“I might not have the right to date another man, but I can still have friends. I’ll say we wanted to discuss Quidditch or something-”

“Yeah, I’m free on Saturday.”

“Nice.”

Well, this at least made him forget about the awkward feeling of lace brushing against his ass with each movement for a minute.

“I should go, ‘Tsumu’s waiting for me. See you on Saturday!” he smiles at him, making Akaashi irremediably smile back. 

He’s already a few meters away when he finally calls him, “Osamu?”

“Mmmmh?”

“Is it a date?”

“If you want it to be, yeah.”

“Sure.”

\---

Saturday comes faster than his own habituation to lace, and when he steps out of the castle, he can _very much_ feel the white lace rubbing his most intimate parts. Hopefully his thick scarf will help hide the flush on his face (it’s cold, okay? right?).

It’s not as uncomfortable as it was when he started wearing them, though, and he can walk with his head held up high without feeling like anyone looking at him will immediately notice his dick is covered with sexy lingerie. 

“G’d afternoon,” Osamu greets him over the bridge leading to Hogsmeade.

He smiles behind his scarf, “‘afternoon,” he whispers, drinking in the look of Miya Osamu in his red Durmstrang coat and white fuzzy earmuffs.

“I like your earmuffs, it’s cute.”

“Thanks, beanies make me look like a giant condom.”

“Less cute.”

They start walking towards the small town. It’s his first visit in town, now that he thinks about it. he never really left the castle grounds since he arrived, spending most of his time in the library or around the lake. 

“You wanna look for gifts or go for a drink first?” Osamu asks once they’re standing in the middle of the main street.

It’s Saturday, so it doesn’t come off as a surprise that the place is heavily crowded. But no one seems to notice the two of them.

“I already have the presents for my parents and Koutarou, so I only have to find one for Konoha- and you. But I guess I won’t be buying this one today.”

“Smart move,” Osamu winks at him, walking towards the Quidditch equipment shop. “Should find something for Atsumu here.”

“Isn’t this year harmful for his career?” he asks, entering the shop behind Osamu. 

“Nah, as long as he keeps practising, they said it was fine. The _Grodzisk Goblins_ trainers weren’t happy about him taking part in the Tournament, because he might- you know, lose a limb or something. But he’s stubborn, promised he would be careful and all- it was obviously a lie, as you may have noticed. And the National Team usually switches between him and Zamojski, so they’re not really bothered by his absence.”

“He really is that good.”

“Yeah, I don’t know if he’ll stay in Poland once we’re done with school, he’s probably going to come to the UK. He could play against that Sakusa guy more often, then.”

“The Hogwarts Champion?” _of course the Hogwarts Champion, Sakusa’s not a usual name in the UK,_ he internally rolls his eyes at himself.

“Yeah, he didn’t make it to the national junior team because he got injured during the selections, but I’ve heard he’s a monster of a keeper, he got scouted by the Appleby Arrows I think, made ‘Tsumu go insane when he heard about it.” 

“He wants to play for them?”

“Nah, he’s aiming for the Wimbourne Wasps I think. But they’re the Arrows’ traditional rivals so you know, this plus the Tournament rivalry, he’s growing an obsession for that poor Sakusa guy.”

Osamu keeps looking around, not even spearing a look at the brooms, taking a pair of gloves in his hands before putting them back on the shelves. 

“Maybe I should just buy him a replica of Sakusa’s Quidditch robe or something like that.”

-

In the end, he gets Konoha a small engraved shovel to repot his magical and non-magical plants and Osamu buys his brother a quill that corrects mistakes its owner makes when writing in English _(‘if he ever decides to come work in the UK, he’ll need this.’)._ They stop at Honeydukes to get Pumpkin Pasties before entering the Three Broomsticks. 

The place is crowded with students and Akaashi even notices Bokuto and Ushijima sitting in a corner, deeply immersed in their conversation.

“Butterbeer? I’m paying.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” Osamu smiles, navigating them until he finds an empty table where he puts his bags. 

“Extra sweet please.”

He looks around while waiting for Osamu, when he realizes he stopped noticing the lace against his skin a long time ago- well until now. Biting his lower lip, the simple thought of what exactly he’s wearing- on a date- with Osamu- it hits him like a troll. 

_Fuck._

But behind the thick coat of sheer embarrassment, his mind can’t refrain from imagining exactly what Osamu’s reaction would be, if he knew; if he saw. Maybe he would laugh, maybe he would pin him against a wall and- yeah, maybe Konoha was right, he does feel sexier.

“Here you go,” Osamu announces, already back with two mugs full of Butterbeer. He grins at him and sits across from him, “I hope you weren’t too bored without me.”

“Nah, I was-” _thinking about what you’d do to me if you knew what I was hiding,_ “thinking about the Yule Ball and how I hate these types of events.”

“Oh. Yeah, I don’t really like them either, I used to be jealous of ‘Tsumu for getting all the girls, but I guess now I’m glad I don’t have a fan club as big as his.”

“You have one?”

“I guess? I don’t know if they’re obsessed with me or the fact that I’m ‘Tsumu’s brother though.”

“Mmmh.”

“Do you already know who you’re going to the ball with?” Osamu asks, leaning closer, his hand resting in his palm.

“Yeah, maybe you know her, Haiba Alisa from Durmstrang? Konoha asked me to invite her, so he might have a shot at it or something.”

“Oh, yeah I know her. I don’t think your friend stands a chance though. She’s uhm- she’s just hiding her relationship, with uhm- You know-”

“No, I don’t actually read your mind-” but Osamu wriggles his eyebrows and somehow, this gesture does kind of make sense? “Oh. Oh! Yeah. Well I guess it’s a good thing she ended up with me then.”

“Yeah, at least she won’t have to reject you.”

“Konoha’s going to be devastated. What about you? Any lucky girl?”

“Yeah- she’s from Hogwarts, but she just wants to make the boy she likes jealous. I thought I might as well.”

“Not scared you’ll get punched in the face?”

“They can always try, but I’m ‘Tsumu’s brother, I probably know more about fighting than any guy here. Plus, we study the Dark Arts in Durmstrang, so I don’t think they’re going to try to come after me.”

“Fair enough.”

The Butterbeer tastes so sweet on his palate he almost moans of happiness, slightly shifting on his chair to come closer to the table so the whipped cream doesn’t end up on his jumper, or on the floor, but the simple movement ends up sending shivers down his spine when the lace fabric rubs against his half hard dick- _fucking Konoha and his stupid ideas._

But once the slight feeling of panic is gone, hidden behind his mug of Butterbeer, he exhales slowly, eyeing Osamu, and he innocently asks,

“And if it doesn’t work with her boy? Will you reject her?”

Of course, he wants to make sure they’re on the same page, just in case; but more than that, he wants to let him know, make sure it’s loud and clear-

“You won’t have to punch anyone in the face, Akaashi don’t worry, I’m all yours.”

He almost chokes on his whipped cream but manages to keep a straight face, and Osamu’s eyes are definitely darker now, a familiar smirk spreading on his lips. 

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Okay, maybe he’s getting used to that lingerie after all; he’s not _there_ yet, but between Osamu’s not-even-slightly ashamed declaration and the feeling of the light fabric against his crotch, against the skin of his ass- he might start to understand what feeling _desirable_ means.

-

His back hits his mattress as soon as he enters his room. Antoine and Charles aren’t there yet, so he locks the door behind him, leaves a sock on the door handle, their silent message meaning _don’t enter, you don’t want to see what’s happening in there._

Taking off his clothes, he only leaves his panties on, taking a look at himself in the mirror from where he’s laying on the bed, legs slightly spread and _yeah_ this looks totally outrageous; and hot. Not that he’d see himself as hot, but right now, more than just _desirable,_ he feels in control, in control of how people perceive him, in control of his own body and the effects it has on others. 

He takes his eyes away from his reflection, closing his eyelids, now picturing himself inside the Three Broomsticks again- what would people think of him if they saw him wearing that, if they knew- would they be disgusted? Aroused? Both? Would they stare? Try to cover their eyes? Would they be jealous of whoever gets to _touch_ him in this? 

What would have been Osamu’s reaction?

 _“I’m all yours,”_ and the pointed look Osamu had sent him, his dark gaze on him; they hadn’t kissed today, but it had been close, and there’s no way he managed to hide his own burning desire while they were walking back to the castle side by side. 

If he hadn’t been wearing these panties, they probably would have ended up in an empty classroom for a quick make out session. But he wanted to keep it a secret for now- The Yule Ball would come soon enough.

It had been _so close._

Maybe the real Osamu would be disgusted, but right now, in his own mind, he can only picture him with eyes burning with hunger; can only imagine him pinning him down on his bed, hand around his throat, pounding into him- his fantasies usually don’t involve foreplay; not that he doesn’t enjoy it, it’s just that when it comes to self-pleasure, it’s rough thrusts against his prostate that does it for him. 

He doesn’t take his panties off when he thinks about what could have happened- what’s bound to happen, eventually- palms himself over the white lace, moaning quietly, biting his lower lip. 

It doesn’t take much more for him to come, screaming silently with images of a very much naked Osamu on top of him; he comes inside the white panties, soaking the fabric and his own fingers.

_Well, shit._

\---

So, it took him around one week to get used to the lace, to buy some new pairs with the purchase form he discreetly stole from Konoha and two weeks to be able to wear them without getting red each time he feels the lace rubbing against his skin, two weeks to notice the difference wearing them had on him. 

It’s subtle, but he goes back to his usual cotton boxers once, and he can tell he _feels_ less desirable- realistically, nothing changes around him, people don’t look at him differently. But the light feeling of shame, the thicker certainty that seeing lace on him would probably make Osamu go crazy with desire- he doesn’t know why he feels like that, but he does, and that’s why he chose to wear his brand new black thong when he enters the library on Christmas Eve. 

They don’t really meet here often, but when he doesn’t know where to look to find Osamu, he usually starts in the potion aisle. 

“Osamu,” he calls him in a soft voice when he sees him, standing against one of the shelves, a book in hand.

“Morning,” he replies with a smile, closing the book before putting it back on the shelf.

“I’ve got something for you,” he hands him the packet wrapped in reindeer patterned paper. 

“Oh, I’ve got something with you too in my bag, I was waiting for lunch to come find you but since you’re here-” he walks towards the table he’s occupying.

Considering it’s the 24th of December, most students are either sleeping in or playing outside in the snow; they’re almost alone in the library, so he doesn’t even try to hide it. It’s a small package, wrapped in simple brown paper. 

“Don’t open it before midnight.”

“Of course not.”

-

Konoha and Bokuto are sitting in Bokuto’s room that he doesn’t share with anyone (perks of being the Beauxbâtons Champion) when midnight hits. Some students sleep until the morning, but they’re not twelve anymore, so they simply wait until the first minute of the 25th is passed to open their gifts. 

Bokuto gives him a large bright blue envelope and Konoha hands him a long cardboard tube. He gives him the wrapped small shovel to Konoha along with another box and hands Bokuto his gift with a smile.

He starts with Konoha’s present, which turns out to be three star-maps of the days whe the three of them were born. Smiling softly at the constellations, fingers brushing over the glassy paper, he thanks him with a wobbling voice, but there’s no time for emotion because Konoha is screaming in his ears.

“OHMYGOD AKAASHI WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?”

“My little secret.”

Konoha looks at his Atsumu uniform from the Polish National Team with tears in his eyes until they widen even more. 

“AND HE SIGNED IT???????????????”

“He did.”

“FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK”

He’ll have to thank Osamu for this one. 

“And thanks for the shovel, I swear I won’t use it to hit you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

Bokuto smiles brightly when he sees the Gaara figurine Akaashi got him- ever since they binge-watched Naruto a few years ago, he ended up building a collection of Naruto-related Muggle figurines, and it has somehow become a tradition for Akaashi to get him a new character for each Christmas. 

“Thanks, Keiji.”

But he’s already staring at the blue envelope that contains a gift card for Konoha’s lingerie shop that Bokuto got him.

“They also make vibrating-” Bokuto starts with a genuine smile. 

“I know, but I don’t think I’m interested,” he hurriedly cuts him off.

Konoha stares at the envelope and smirks, “so that’s where my extra purchase form went.”

-

He opens Osamu’s gift once he’s back to his room, hiding under his blankets. 

_“Cute,”_ he whispers when he unwraps white fuzzy earmuffs with a smile.

\---

Bokuto left a few minutes ago to go join his own partner in the Hogwarts grounds. It’s just Konoha and him in the middle of the Champion’s room, adjusting their outfits for the last time before exiting the carriage. 

“I’m still appalled that you refused to wear fishnets.”

“I’m wearing red lace, I think it’s enough.”

“But you like it!”

“So what? You want me to wear things I hate? Wasn’t bullying me into wearing pink enough for you?”

“It’s a beautiful colour on you, Keiji dear, I know it was the right choice to make sure your mysterious Durmstrang man never stops looking at you tonight.”

And sincerely, Akaashi can’t even sincerely object because he had to admit after trying the suit for the first time that it _did_ look good on him. Surprisingly, he doesn’t even look like a giant bubblegum, but rather _sophisticated._ He keeps the top button of his shirt open, and turns around to look at Konoha.

“How is it?”

“Perfect! The softest marshmallow I ever saw.”

“I’m not sure anyone finds marshmallow sexy though.”

“Unless they’re wearing red lace,” he says matter-of-factly.

“What about me? Think I’m getting laid tonight?”

“I’m sure even Atsumu will look at you.”

“Oh, you _silly naive doe,_ I’m sure he’ll be even sexier than me.”

Akaashi laughs softly, wondering how exactly can someone look _sexier_ than Konoha tonight. With his hairless chest in clear view for everyone to see, his sharp eyeliner and the _tight_ black pants- no, there’s no way Atsumu is going to look as sexy as him. Only the sides of his chest are covered in blue silk decorated with flowers made of fabric that seem to move on its own accord; his shoulders only covered in see-through tulle that falls on the ground. 

“Not sure about this, Aki.”

“Do you mean I’m sexy?” he winks at Akaashi who sticks his tongue out.

“Of course you are.”

-

Alisa is waiting for him in front of the Beauxbâtons carriage around seven thirty. Konoha comes along with them, despite being fully aware that none of them is even merely interested in each other. 

She’s wearing a gorgeous red and gold dress that Konoha spends a few minutes staring at with his mouth open before voicing his admiration. Alisa smiles politely and begins to explain how she worked on it after buying it to make it look better; Akaashi simply listens to them chat about fashion, a field he’s completely clueless at. He’s not _blind,_ but he always leaves big fashion-related decisions to Konoha.

The courtyard is full of students waiting to enter the Great Hall; he spots Antoine with his girlfriend who waves at him with a big smile. _Putain_

“Antoine’s wearing white,” Akaashi says, not looking at anyone in particular. But the words reach the ears they were meant for anyway.

“He’s _what?”_ Konoha audibly gasps, turning his head in Antoine’s direction. “The fucker never listens to me.”

Akaashi laughs and shrugs; few are the people who listen to Konoha’s _insane_ advice when it comes to the proper way to dress for a big even such as this one. It’s just _too much_ for many people, Akaashi included (quod vide the fishnets onesie). But this time, advising Antoine not to wear _white_ wasn’t an insane piece of advice. 

“He could have worn black for fuck’s sake.”

“Maybe he likes it.”

“I hope so because if he hates it, it’s even more ridiculous.”

-

Turns out Atsumu is as sexy as Konoha who stares unapologetically when the Durmstrang Champion enters the room. He’s the first one to enter, Sakusa behind him and Bokuto closing their little line. 

Atsumu apparently isn’t afraid to show his chest because most of his skin is clearly in display, his vest only closed around his navel with a white cotton belt. The fabric he’s wearing seems light as air, almost see through, floating gracefully around him when he walks; dark blue, red and white enveloping his body in just the right way. 

Even Akaashi has to admit he’s damn nice to look at. 

_“Putain de merde,”_ Konoha whispers next to him, looking at Inès, a Beauxbâtons student, who’s walking next to Atsumu, her arm wrapped around his. 

Akaashi laughs, trying to see if Osamu is wearing the same thing as his brother, but can’t spot him in the crowd. 

Bokuto chose something more traditional with a dark grey suit; but he’s unforgettable anyway, especially considering his partner is Hogwarts’ Quidditch sweetheart, Ushijima Wakatoshi. There’s something deeply _warm_ that spreads through Akaashi’s body when he sees them walk side by side, a secretive smile on both their faces. One might be intimidated by the sheer power emanating from the both of them; but the only thing Akaashi can see is _certainty;_ of who they are, individually and together, steady and untouchable. 

“I’m so proud of him,” Konoha beams next to him; like every time he sees Bokuto with a man next to him outside their usual circle of friends.

“Me too.”

Sakusa has chosen the edgy type of outfit, which isn’t surprising at all; but the lines on his jacket seem to be moving, like silver rays of light coming from the centre of his vest. Akaashi never really looked at him, too busy watching Bokuto and Atsumu to really _look._ He realizes just now that the Hogwarts Champion is just as handsome as the others, that much is sure, with his soft curls and his sharp eyes. His partner is a beautiful girl, with the same black hair as him, the same sharp eyes, the same dark outfit. 

The music starts, and the three couples start moving; thankfully they all seem to have mastered their moves because none of them falls or even grimaces. 

Atsumu dances with all the confidence of the world, head held up tight and an arrogant smile on his lips; Bokuto seems to be the only one who chose someone he actually _likes_ as a partner, because he dances with an easy smile and eyes drowning into Ushijima’s own warm ones. Sakusa moves gracefully, similarly to Atsumu, with his chin up and his back straight, but there’s no smile on his face, no arrogance in his eyes, only boredom, his eyes looking absolutely _annoyed._

Soon, the headmasters enter the dance floor with their own partners, followed by some students.

“Shall we?” Alisa asks with a soft smile; and Akaashi nods.

-

It’s only after the two first dances that he spots Osamu on the dance floor with his Hogwarts partner. The first thing that comes to his mind is that he is not wearing the same outfit as his twin; he doesn’t show off any skin and even his throat is partially covered by his white buttoned-up shirt. 

He’s smiling politely at his partner who’s smiling back; and something inside Akaashi wants to scream. 

From where he is, he can only see that he’s wearing a pretty traditional suit with red fringes falling from one of his shoulders, flying around him each time he gracefully moves to make his partner twirl, each time he moves; 

Alisa squeezes the fingers between hers to make him focus again; she doesn’t seem to mind him not paying attention at her- she hasn’t really been looking at him either; but she does value her own two feet. 

Yet, the fire inside him doesn’t die down- he was prepared for this, knew it would happen- well it doesn’t hurt any less. So, he keeps making Alisa twirl around herself, starts smiling at her, but his eyes keep searching for Osamu.

The next time he looks up, searching for Osamu and his partner, he finds them a few metres closer to him, and this time, Osamu’s grinning back at him, as if he knew exactly what was going on in his mind, knew exactly how much he currently wants to say _fuck it_ and take this girl’s place in his arms. 

But he doesn’t. Knowing that Osamu’s looking _at him,_ never leaving his gaze, only looking at his partner when needed to avoid hurting her. If he’s touching someone else’s waist, it’s still Akaashi he’s thinking about, still Akaashi he’s looking at, and he grins at the knowledge that if she were to kiss him right now, Osamu would still be looking at him just the same.

-

He grants Alisa three dances before they both agree to leave it there; between his two left feet and the obvious stares she aims at a Hogwarts girl on the other side of the room, he doesn’t find the strength to even try to protest. 

She smiles knowingly at him when she notices Osamu looking at them and pats him on the shoulder with her perfectly manicured hands.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Works for me,” Akaashi smiles back at her. 

“Have a nice evening, Akaashi, and if you need anything, I’m always here to help.”

“Likewise.” He nods politely, “have fun.”

“Oh, I will,” she laughs, light and airy before they part ways. 

Everyone is too wrapped up in their own couple drama slash food enjoyment slash enamoured dancing to notice Akaashi discreetly leaving the dance floor. He orders a wine glass, hoping it won’t be scandalously bad and waits, looking around him. 

Konoha doesn’t seem to be too disappointed in Alisa’s lack of interest because he’s sitting next to the guy who opened the Durmstrang parade on their first day at Hogwarts, speaking with big gestures as the grey-haired man stares at him with an amused smile on his face. 

He only has to wait for fifteen minutes before Osamu joins him with a sharp grin.

“Beauxbâtons seeker,” he greets him.

“Miya.”

Osamu orders a Firewhiskey and comes to sit next to him, not even that discreet when he looks at him with hunger in his eyes.

“I think my date has finally found the love of her life, and it’s not me,” he sadly grimaces, gesturing towards a couple of Hogwarts students dancing in the middle of the ballroom. 

“Oh, I’m sorry for you,” Akaashi lies, laughing softly before sipping his red wine- it’s not _that_ bad, after all. 

“Who am I to stand in the path of true love, after all?” he laughs, and Akaashi could believe him if he didn’t know better. 

_Makes you wonder how used to pretending Osamu actually is._

Osamu drinks his entire glass in one go and stands up, eyes a bit glassy; and oh, he is definitely not hiding how hard he’s staring now, pupils slightly dilated, gaze drifting from his eyes to his lips, and further down, on his partially revealed chest, and lower, lower, _lower._ He doesn’t even know what’s hidden under his pants, and yet, he still smiles before his eyes move up again, and he asks,

“Wanna go smoke?”

Osamu doesn’t smoke- well at least Akaashi never saw him smoke, never smelled anything like cigarette scent on him; so there’s at least a seventy percent chance that it’s a coded way to ask him if he wants to get the hell out of here to meet somewhere more _private._

“Sure.”

He’s never been a big smoker; sometimes shares a cigarette or two with Konoha when the wind is cold, the night is dark and it’s time for heartfelt confessions, but apart from that he usually doesn’t touch cigarettes, not even when he’s drunk. 

Osamu leaves the Great Hall ten minutes before he does, _just in case,_ and when he finally finds the courage to stand, mind very much aware of what is about to happen, his heart skips a beat, his head starts to spin- 

Once he’s out, he inhales deeply, enjoying the cold air in his lungs. He’s so excited he almost forgot to put his coat on; but it would have been rude not to put on Osamu’s gift on his ears. He only has to cross the courtyard to find him sitting under a hidden alcove. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He smiles when he notices the fluffy dark blue scarf around Osamu’s neck- Akaashi’s gift.

“Thanks for the scarf,” he says, his eyes closing when he smiles, making his dimples visible and Akaashi’s heart melt.

“Thanks for the earmuffs,” he points at his well covered ears with a grin.

“Looks cute on you.”

Akaashi smiles even brighter, and has to gather all the self-control he has not to kiss Osamu right then, right there. But they might still be seen, especially when half the students are so close and totally drunk, with many of them probably ready to have the wildest sex of their life in the most public parts of Hogwarts.

“You wanna go somewhere more private?” Osamu finally asks once he’s done looking at him with unhidden adoration (they might not be allowed to kiss, but no one’s close enough to see their expression in the dark).

“Like where?”

“I don’t know, my bedroom?”

_Oh my god, it’s happening._

“Won't other students be there?”

“I share my room with 'Tsumu and I don't think he'll come home tonight. I saw him leave with- I saw him leave and I don’t think he’ll make it back to the boat tonight. And if he does, I’ll just lock the door.”

"Okay," Akaashi nods, feeling the lace burning against his ass, an entire month of frustration rushing back through his brain, “yeah, let’s go.”

Osamu stands up and looks at him with a suddenly serious look; 

“Okay. I’m going to show you something.”

Instinctively, he frowns in confusion, his mind leaving its horny state to a colder more serious form.

“This has to stay between us because I’m totally not registered.”

“O- Okay?” Akaashi hesitates, fearing for the worst revelation ever (what? Is he a vampire or something?)

“It’s just so no one notices us going back to the boat together.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever you need to be safe.”

Osamu inhales deeply, before he _literally turns into a fox, what the hell is happening, what?_ Staring down at the ground where the grey fox is sitting in the snow, glaring back at him with its grey eyes. _Not registered-_ Osamu’s words come back to him- 

“You’re an animagus.”

The fox looks at him with piercing eyes, and he assumes it must mean _yes_ in fox language. 

The small animal finally stands up and starts to walk in the direction of the boat, the snow almost covering his entire body except for his head.

-

“You’re an animagus,” he deadpans once they’re inside the boat and Osamu turns back into his human form. He doesn’t even look around him, too shocked to pay attention to the wooden interior, the rich sculptures and the burning flames in the aligned fireplaces.

“Shhh, don’t say it so loudly,” Osamu whispers, leading him towards the huge staircase. 

Akaashi follows him in silence. _Osamu’s an animagus._ He can’t help but be to be _impressed._ If the animagus thing doesn’t turn him on in itself, the idea that Osamu is _that_ smart and _that_ dedicated to what he does? Yeah, it does go straight to his already half-hard dick. 

It’s only once they’re inside what he assumes is Osamu’s bedroom that he finally answers.

“Yeah, I’m an animagus. Our older sister taught us how to become ones when we were younger- the three of us are not registered. It was to get out of our parents’ mansion without being noticed, please don’t tell anyone.”

This time he can allow himself to touch, and so, he does, bringing his hand to Osamu’s cheek, thumb pressing on his cheekbones, moving slowly 

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. All of them are.” He whispers.

Osamu smiles, obviously relaxing, taking off his coat to throw it on a chair next to the door. He takes Akaashi’s one and puts it on a hanger in his wardrobe, leaving their scarves and earmuffs on his dark wooden desk.

“My sister’s an Arctic fox,” he says with a soft smile, “she’s a mind healer at the best hospital in Poland. I think you would like her, she used to explain astronomy to us, tell us the tales behind the constellations when we were kids.”

He goes to sit on the bed, inviting Akaashi to come next to him.

“‘Tsumu’s a red fox, and according to ‘Zumi, I’m a Corsac fox; apparently there’s the fox pattern runs in the family,” he smiles before turning his head to look at Akaashi, “so now you know my two best kept secrets, and we’ve known each other for around six months.”

“‘t’s alright, I won’t tell a soul.”

“I know, I trust you.”

Akaashi smiles softly at the confession before taking a look around him. There are two beds, sitting far away from each other; the room’s pretty big, so they both have their own space. Both twins have pictures of their friends and family on their bedside tables, and Atsumu apparently bothered to bring his entire Quidditch trophies collection with him because they’re all put on display behind glass windows. 

Curious, Akaashi stands up. “Can I take a look?”

“Sure.”

He apparently won Durmstrang’s best Chaser four years in a row. His _Grodzisk Goblins_ robes, a signed Quaffle, it’s an ode to Miya Atsumu and Quidditch that Akaashi sees before his eyes; but surprisingly, the second row of shelves is packed with _National Edible Potion Awards_ trophies. Miya Osamu, they read, ranked second, first, third, then first again. There’s a Durmstrang Awards for Services to the School silver medal, what he assumes is Osamu’s old Durmstrang Quidditch robe.

“I think Alisa noticed something. But she said she wouldn’t tell anyone if we kept our mouth shut as well.”

“Yeah, she knows that I know about her little affairs, our parents are friends. It’s a silent understanding between the Haiba and the Miyas that we need to protect each other’s backs when it comes to not meeting our parents’ expectations.”

Taking a look at the trophy shelf, Akaashi can’t help but smile sadly.

“Apart from us, I don’t see how you could not be meeting their expectations.”

“Oh, what pure-blood parents expect from their children,” he laughs humourlessly, “it’s sick. Take ‘Tsumu for example, he could become a Quidditch World Champion that they would still not come to see his games because it’s unfit for a pure blood to waste his time in futile things such as sports.”

He stands up to slide his arms around Akaashi’s waist, resting his chin over his shoulder, pressing his chest against his back, looking at the trophies and the pictures behind the glass window.

“This is Izumi,” he says, pointing at a picture of a younger version of the twins with an older girl, “she’s our older sister. I told you she’s a Mind healer at the best hospital in Warszawa, and yet they still tell all their friends that she’s a Mediwitch, even when she’s sitting right next to them.”

Sighing, he buries his face inside Akaashi’s neck, inhaling loudly, “and I guess they will probably disinherit me if they ever learn about _this,_ or if I tell them I’d like to open a restaurant or work in the food industry. Except if it’s for the government and it allows them to extend their influence.”

“But isn’t the entertainment industry a good way to extend it?”

“Oh, well it is, but it’s not as noble as they would like it to be.” 

“I see.”

“But let’s not talk about my family tonight. It’s Christmas after all, and for once I can actually enjoy this cursed day.”

Akaashi smiles tenderly, interlinking their fingers resting against his stomach. 

“Did you at least have fun?”

“Mmmh, I think Alisa is going to need to go to the Infirmary considering how many times I’ve stepped on her feet.”

“You don’t know how to dance?”

“Oh, I know how, I just never- I never lead? I always let my partners lead. It’s Konoha who taught me how to dance, so it’s as approximative as it gets.”

It’s Osamu’s turn to smile, eyes glinting with slight amusement. He takes his wand out of the pocket hidden inside his suit jacket and from the flick of his wrist, activates the turntable on the other side of the room. He quickly changes the disk when loud electric guitars start playing, making him jump with surprise. 

It’s a much softer song that starts once the other disk is set on the turntable; the sound of the piano starts flying around the room, bouncing on the walls; it’s like a stereo system _but better._

“Dance with me? I’ll lead,” Osamu asks, stepping back and extending his arm for Akaashi to take it. 

“Okay,” Akaashi nods. 

“I wish I could have done this in the ballroom,” he admits while putting one of his hands on Akaashi’s waist, intertwining their fingers.

He puts his own free hand on Osamu’s shoulder and smirks, “I think it’s better if I properly learn how to dance before we show it to the world,” he jokes, putting one-foot backwards, one foot forward, the other forwards; and again- one, two, three- Konoha would be so proud of him. 

Backward, forward, forward, backward, forward, forward-

“Breathe, Akaashi,” Osamu laughs, eyes burning holes inside his head from how intensely he’s looking. 

He exhales, inhales, backward, forward, back- no, forward. One- Two- Three- 

_Stop looking at your feet, idiot!_ Konoha’s voice rings in his ears and his head shoots up, meeting Osamu’s amused irises. He lets himself be captivated by the pools of molten silver staring back at him. His mouth opens lightly, he should say something, anything, but the music is loud in his ears, and his partner’s eyes heavy on him, the only thing he wants to do is to kiss him, to feel him closer, touch his skin, let his hand roam over his shoulder, fall on his back, follow the arch of his back, touch his skin, lick it, burn it _._

Letting his feet move freely, he quickly loses track of how exactly he’s supposed to move; but Osamu doesn’t look bothered by it at all, simply slowing down the pace as the song changes, until they’re simply pressed against each other, until Akaashi’s arms come up to rest on his shoulders in a loose hug, and Osamu’s hands slide on his hips; nose barely touching. 

He doesn’t really notice when Osamu’s hands slip under his shirt, untucking it to touch the warm skin underneath; they’re both lost, to the world around them, to the music that softly plays until it comes to stops, to the consequences their actions are going to have- they’re lost, only finding a compass in each other. And Akaashi knows now, that the only map he is ever going to follow is the one Osamu’s fingers are tracing on the skin of his back. 

It’s easy; tenderness shifting into quiet hunger as effortlessly as dewdrops roll on grass stalks.

The fingers on his lower back slither upwards, and Osamu’s hands are big, so big when he spreads his fingers, allowing each millimetre in the inside of his hands to come in contact with Akaashi’s skin, before gently scratching the back of his ribs, tearing a small moan out of him.

Waves of arousal crash over him, steady, it goes up and up, retreats when he lets his thumbs brush the skin of Osamu’s cheeks, so tender it makes his heart falter in his chest; before the waves come up again when their hungry eyes meet, briefly before they lean in another kiss. 

It’s desperately slow but not frustrating, each flow of lust simply leaving for love to spread inside their bodies again. Maybe it lasts for hours, until they’re not moving anymore, simply enjoying the touch of each other’s hands, unhurried for the first time in weeks. 

They’re used to rushed make-out sessions that would leave them physically satiated but still emotionally starved; so maybe it’s to make up for all these hours spent outside, unable to just absorb each other’s touch without immediately devouring it; all these hours spent inside, too busy burning to consider providing each other with simple affectionate warmth. 

-

What pulls them away from their temporary stasis is a benign movement on Osamu's part, a simple slip of his wrist, the one that makes him touch just a bit lower, when his hand slides from Akaashi's shoulder blades to the small of his back. His fingers travel down his spine, down, down, _down,_ he doesn't stop, slipping past the barrier of Akaashi's belt to come rest at the top of his ass, the tip of his fingers resting there while they still hold each other, still kissing lazily. 

Until the sensation under his fingers reaches Osamu's brain.

“Is this-” he starts, eyes widening slightly.

“Thought you might like it,” Akaashi smirks

“Let me see, then.”

Their movements become hurried, almost clumsy in the way they just spend too much time on a damn button, even getting one arm stuck in his sleeve in the rush; Osamu’s black and red jacket falls first, landing in a pool of red fringes flowing in thin streams on the dark wood; Akaashi’s own jacket quickly joins it, not even sparing a quick thought for Konoha who would probably scream in horror at this sight. 

Bless Konoha, though, because he chose his shirt probably for this exact purpose; loose, half opened already, leaving just the very top of his chest bare, only slightly covering his sternum, with fewer buttons to open than his Osamu’s white shirt. The Durmstrang student is still struggling with his own buttons when Akaashi lets his own light pink shirt fall from his shoulders, revealing more skin than they ever allowed each other to see. 

If Osamu’s movements were moderately slow before, they become horrendously clumsy once his eyes land on his naked chest, lips slightly open. His pupils widen at the sight and Akaashi can’t help but to laugh quietly before coming forward to help him. Their fingers brush furtively before Osamu lets his arm fall alongside his body, the other one reaching to cup Akaashi’s face, pulling him closer; they kiss with all the hunger of two trouts deprived of water for too long. 

His fingers finally manage to open the white shirt enough to slide it over Osamu’s head, revealing his shoulders- his broad shoulders- and the sight ignites something inside Akaashi’s body, oil on fire as he starts pushing him towards the nearest bed;

“That’s your bed, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nothing more awkward than having sex on Atsumu’s bed (although Konoha would probably disagree). Osamu falls first; the back of his knees hit the mattress, and he falls behind, his head hitting the pillows while they both take off their shoes and socks, leaving them with only their pants on. 

He finally kneels between Osamu’s parted thighs;

“Still want to see?” Akaashi smirks, enjoying the sight of Osamu having to look up to meet his gaze a bit too much. 

“Fuck, yes,” Osamu lets out in a small breath, his hands landing on his narrow hips before dealing with the single button of his pants, pulling them down in a swift movement to reveal the red lace covering his crotch. _“Fuck.”_

“Figured you’d like it,” he smiles, but there’s a part of him that sighs in relief. 

“You’re a menace.”

In a similar situation, a few weeks ago, he probably would have tried to immediately hide himself. If Osamu had seen him like this on his first day wearing lace, he would have covered his body in shame; but as days went by and his body got used to the slight itch, as he grew more and more confident about his own right to be _attractive,_ he quickly started to want to show it, to wear things that would be _more_ provocative, that would make him feel even _more_ desirable-

 _“Fuck,_ I don’t even know what to say-” Osamu laughs, eyes glued on the red fabric, “I really _really_ like it- It’s- Can I touch?” 

“Of course.”

He stops breathing as soon as Osamu’s fingers start to wander on his ribs, moving down to rest on his hips before touching the red lace covering the top of his thigh; his eyes seem hypnotized; a bomb could explode outside, he’s sure Osamu wouldn’t even care. His lips are slightly parted, and they both gasp audibly when he finally lets his hand drift towards his now erected length. 

It draws a sharp breath out of Akaashi.

Applying pressure on the base of his lover’s dick with the heel of his hand, Osamu quickly moves up, slightly brushing the red lace still covering Akaashi’s erected cock before pulling at the fabric gently, freeing the tip of his length. He groans when he sees the thick line of pre-cum hanging between the tip of Akaashi’s cock and the elastic of the red panties. His thumb automatically slides over the slit of the pink head, breaking the thick string. 

Akaashi moans at the feeling, his hips start to move- to do what exactly, he doesn’t know- just to _feel, more._

He brings his thumb to his parted lips, looking straight at Akaashi when he licks the remaining sperm off his skin. It lasts for a few seconds, but once his thumb enters his mouth, it’s like time _stops._ Their eyes never leave each other, until the finger leaves his lips in a loud _pop_ that makes them both exit their trance. 

“Did you buy them just for tonight?”

“I bought the red ones especially for tonight, yes.”

Osamu inhales sharply, eyes widening in genuine surprise.

“You mean there are others?”

Akaashi slowly nods, making Osamu groan.

Things move quickly after that, their lips crash, drawing a moan out of their throats when Akaashi falls forward, threading his fingers in dark hair, allowing their bare chests to finally touch, their naked skins to brush for the first time since they’ve met. The feeling of skin against skin is just something else, especially after being frustrated for so long. It _burns._

Both of their dicks are pressed together, only separated by Osamu’s trousers and Akaashi’s panties, but the only thing in both their minds is that _they’re finally touching-_ their skin is warm, and soft, and Osamu’s shoulder are so broad Akaashi hands barely manage to grab them when they finally leave his hair. One of Osamu’s arms is wrapped around his naked waist, pushing at the small of his back to make him grind harder, to allow them to feel _more pressure, more weight, more friction, more-_

“Akaa-”

“Keiji- I think it’s time you call me by my first name,” he whispers, panting as he enjoys the feeling of another cock against his, despite the fabric that separates them.

“Keiji- Do you- want to?”

His mind was half focusing on Osamu was saying and half focusing on the feeling of his shoulder blades under his fingers until the question finally reached his brain. He stops the movement of his hips abruptly, meeting Osamu’s silver gaze. 

“To?” he asks, not sure he’s really understanding- well, he does, but he’d rather make sure.

“To go- You know- _all the way.”_

Akaashi smiles gently; for all he’s really similar to Atsumu in his very public arrogance, Osamu still has some timidity hidden behind his bright smiles. 

“If you want to.”

“Yeah- _Yes._ It’s all I can think about- all I’ve been thinking about-”

“How do you want to do it?” he asks gently, “I have no particular preference.”

“Can I put it in? But we can switch next time, yeah I’d definitely want to switch if we manage to- next time.”

“Sure,” Akaashi smiles against his lips.

Then, Osamu efficiently manages to change their position, gently pushing him on the mattress to hover over him, kissing him one last time, before he leaves the bed to remove his pants and his cotton boxers, letting his cock spring free against his abs. He throws his wand on the bed next to Akaashi’s waist before climbing back up, stopping the other man when he tries to get out of his own underwear.

“Nah, wait, I want to enjoy them a bit more.”

He doesn’t wait to slither down, burying his face between his lover’s legs, and when Akaashi moans loudly at the feeling of Osamu’s nose resting right against his balls, he mechanically brings his wrist to his mouth, muffling the moan that escapes his mouth.

“There’s a silencing charm on every room, you can be as loud as you need, no one will hear you,” Osamu says against his thigh.

He smiles at him, before firmly grabbing his hips, squeezing hard, pulling at him to allow him to come closer to his avid mouth. He inhales deeply once again, moaning quietly, his breath brushing the sensitive skin of Akaashi’s milky thighs, fanning at the fire inside him, and he whines loudly when he feels something wet touch him through the lace, barely in contact with his skin. 

It’s warm, and the pressure is just enough to make him hungry for _more._ His hips start to move against his lover’s face, eyes rolling behind, and he might indeed come like this, from the knowledge that Osamu is currently licking his dick through red lace- red lace he bought just for him- red lace that made his lover want to _enjoy them-_

The firm grip of Osamu’s hands on his hips prevent him from moving too harshly against his tongue though. 

_“Annngh,”_ he tries to muffle his moan in the sheets.

But the feeling of Osamu’s tongue only makes him whine louder, louder- _louder_ once he feels the sinful mouth move up, deliciously wet despite the fabric between them. He moves, slowly, but he moves, until he reaches the only part of his cock that’s not caged behind unholy lace. He feels his lips close around the head of his cock and his mind goes wild, buzzing in loud _oh fuck,_ that he might have said out loud. Osamu’s tongue laps at his slit, firm and slow, swirls around the tip before he goes down further, never taking off the lace from his hips.

He doesn’t know for how long they stay like this, with Osamu kneeling on the floor, sucking at the tip of his dick; and suddenly, he feels two warm hands behind his thighs, pushing at them gently to make them move. He bends his knees obediently, moaning when Osamu’s fingers finally reach his entrance through the lace, always through the lace- and the itching feeling against his hole just feels more _real,_ now. But he doesn’t press in, simply hovers there, his lips still lazily wrapped around his cock. 

After a particularly loud moan, Osamu finally moves to take the wand he threw at the bed before, taps twice between Akaashi’s legs. 

It doesn’t get more comfortable no matter how many times he used that spell, but familiarity makes the feeling of the wetness between his legs at least less embarrassing. His first boyfriend was the one who introduced him to the miracles of magic during sex, sparing him the burden of having to bring lube inside Beauxbâtons.

“Tell me if I hurt you.”

“Mmmh.”

With that, Osamu pulls at his panties and finally sets his cock free; he comes back up, smiles adoringly- _adoringly,_ at him, eyes warm and gentle. And for a few seconds, they fall back in a temporary pool of devotion, before the brush of their dicks against each other make them gasp softly. 

“You want me to do it?” Akaashi asks, feeling Osamu’s own hesitation when his index hovers over his entrance. 

“No, I- I want to- If you’re okay with it.”

“Of course I’m okay with it,” he quietly laughs, “just don’t be too rough it’s- it’s been a long time.”

The first finger slips in easily, which is surprising, considering how long it’s been; but the spell makes everything easier, and there were times when he actually agreed to skip preparation altogether, enjoying the slight pain coming with a rough fuck in the morning before class.

But today’s not that kind of day. 

Osamu starts moving slowly, with a kind of ease that makes Akaashi think it might not be the first time he’s doing it- maybe he did it before, with one of his ex-girlfriends- and another finger gently pushes against his rim, making Akaashi gasp loudly. He closes his eyes, baring his throat. Hungry kisses start raining alongside his jugular, and the first knuckle of the second finger enters him. 

“You’re okay?”

His fingers press deeper, and deeper, until the second knuckle gets in, and Akaashi’s dick throbs uncontrollably just a second before he starts undulating his hips. He moans at the sensation of being slowly split open, rocking against the touch of solid fingers to allow his lover to reach him deeper, to help him reach other parts, especially one particular part that’s going to make him see _stars._

“Bend your fingers a litt- Deeper, yeah, there, no- yeah- move- harder- _yeah just like that, oh Merlin, yes!”_

He bites his lower lip to prevent a loud whine from escaping his lips, and his hips rock uncontrollably against Osamu’s fingers. Unable to control his movements, he’s glad for Osamu’s free hand that comes to rest on his hip, steady on his hipbone.

“Add one more,” he manages to say between two sharp drawn breaths, _“please,”_ and Osamu obeys. It’s slow, almost frustrating how careful he is, but there’s nothing to complain about, it’s still better than something that would be too painful. 

Only once Akaashi rockets hard against his deeply buried fingers, does Osamu decide it’s time to pull out, mouth still wandering from one of his shoulders to the other, travelling down his throat. It rips a low moan out of Akaashi’s mouth; but his frustration doesn’t last for long since Osamu sits up and for a few seconds, they just look at each other, warm eyes meeting to check for consent one last time. 

“I want you,” Akaashi tells him.

“God, me too, so much, I’ve been dreaming about- picturing you- this- _fuck.”_

He wants to ask about it, wants to know more, but Akaashi’s back instantly arches when he feels the head of Osamu’s cock aligning with his entrance, heavy between his thighs- _It’s happening, it’s really happening- gods fucking yes-_ are the only thoughts he manages to voice internally as his lover slowly pushes in. 

_“Putain- nggh- enfin,”_ Akaashi mumbles, feeling the painfully pleasant stretch of a dick entering him after so long.

“Mmmh?”

“Keep going,” his brain switches back to English, slowly relaxing.

One of his heels comes to rest against Osamu’s smaller back as he bends his knee, pulling him closer to him; when he finally opens his eyes, he meets the familiar silver gaze glued on him, but between the deep pools of grey, the frown full of worry is clearly visible. Akaashi raises his hand to brush the tip of his fingers on Osamu’s skin, his thumb lingering over the frown lines between his dark eyebrows, pressing softly on the wrinkled skin. 

“You feel- _fuck-”_ Osamu starts, closing his eyes, relaxing under Akaashi’s thumb, and he starts moving again, his two hands sliding over his hips, fingers gripping his skin to get more control over his movements, allowing the snap of his hips to become more powerful, sinking deeper. 

They slowly find a rhythm that makes them both groan louder and louder with each push, until Osamu finally crashes his mouth over his, muffling the strangled moan that wants to fly between his teeth. 

The previous nervousness is finally gone, replaced by a renewed fire that ignites both of their bodies, making them rock harder, faster against each other. 

Like everything tonight, it comes gradually- it starts with a suddenly harsher snap of Osamu’s hips, that makes him reach a slightly different angle, mixed with Akaashi’s own moving hips. It makes Akaashi’s back bend, his body reacting almost instantly as a sharp cry erupts from his chest.

“Yeah, let me hear you,” Osamu whispers between groans, hips starting to move more frantically until he actually grips the meat of one of Akaashi’s thighs, manoeuvring it until he’s holding it up, bending the pliant body of his lover in half- and the reaction is instantaneous. 

As soon as he starts moving again, his dick pushing against his prostate, Akaashi’s back jolts up, his fingers gripping the fabric of the sheets under him- and he moans, unabashedly loud. 

_“Osamu- ‘samu- nggh- sa- aghn- ‘mu- there!”_ he cries out, throwing his head back; it only makes Osamu moves faster and faster, pushing deeper to hit his prostate instead of merely brushing it. 

His head is buzzing now, clearly slipping outside his control, body reacting to everything without him having any say at it. His fingers are gripping the sheets so hardly he might actually be carving holes in them. 

_“Keiji-”_ Osamu starts and that whisper alone brings him closer to the edge; his hand flies to his neglected cock, his long fingers wrapping around his length as Osamu watches, mesmerized by the movements of his wrist- _“fuck- fuck nngh-”_

Osamu’s hips keep moving, Akaashi’s hand keeps moving, until Osamu’s hand that isn’t holding his leg up falls between his open legs, his thumb brushing at his entrance, where his cock is stretching his rim. As soon as he feels the plump of his finger against the thin skin above his hole, Akaashi feels his body start shaking. 

His hand stills around the head of his cock, squeezing hard. 

And when he looks at Osamu who’s watching the exact place where they’re connected, eyes burning with desire, he uses the last remains of his strength to call him. 

Their eyes finally meet. 

Grey eyes are lost now, unseeing as Osamu pushes inside his lover with uncontrolled movements, harder than before, less precise than before, 

_“Keiji,”_ it comes like a surprise and Akaashi can see the exact moment when Osamu falls, eyes slightly widening before he closes them, biting his lower lip-

“Look at me,” he orders, and Osamu obeys, eyes lost in pleasure. 

Akaashi follows him over the edge with a long cry. Their gazes never falter as their bodies rock against each other, each riding their orgasm; he spills over his hand at the same time Osamu stills between his thighs, coming deep inside him.

-

When Osamu finally pulls out, he falls next to him and wraps his arms around his waist, kissing his temple, his cheeks and his bare shoulders.

_“Fuck.”_

“Yeah.”

They smile giddily at each other before laughing loudly, their noses brushing in a tender caress. When their eyes close, Akaashi’s face is buried in Osamu’s hair.

\---

They don’t sleep much that night, though; too hungry for each other, they wake up after a one-hour nap, sleepily grinding against each other, and as soon as they open their eyes, it only takes half an hour for them to start fucking again, slow and deep, making Akaashi moan quietly and Osamu whisper muffled praises into his ear. 

The sun rises too early and with one last blow job, Akaashi finally finds himself closing the buttons of his shirt, looking at Osamu who’s still in bed. 

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

“No, it’d look suspicious, don’t worry, I’ll just say I spent the night with Alisa, she won’t deny it considering she knows.”

“As you wish,” Osamu smiles, standing up, bedsheets falling on the floor as he moves to join Akaashi. He wraps his arm around his waist and buries his face into his neck, inhaling deeply before kissing him one last time. “I wish we could do this more often.”

“Well- you know, we could.”

“Keiji-”

“No- not like that- I mean, I’m leaving for France tomorrow and if you were planning to stay at Hogwarts until you’d leave for Poland- you could come with me instead? It’d be a few days only and there’s an entire portkey system in my city that would allow you to go home on time.”

They’re facing each other now, and Osamu stays silent before smiling with a nod. 

“I’m leaving at ten tomorrow, and then, I can drive us around.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

He leaves the room quietly, crossing his fingers, hoping to not meet anyone in the hallways when he spots a familiar mop of green slash blond slash grey hair a few meters ahead of him. 

“Aki?”

Konoha freezes and slowly turns around to look at him with panicked eyes. 

“Keiji?”

“What are you doing here?” he asks, joining him in the entrance hall.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Konoha asks back with suspicious eyes although he _knows_ what he’s doing here.

He doesn’t have the time to point it out before a third voice comes from the main entrance of the boat. 

“What are you two doing here?” 

Miya Atsumu, obviously in the same _walk of shame_ ritual as the two of them, enters, looking at them with a frown. There’s a Ravenclaw scarf wrapped around his neck but other than that, he looks totally normal. 

“Never mind. Is my brother still asleep?” he casually asks, looking straight at Akaashi.

“No.” Akaashi answers quickly.

Konoha’s head turns towards in slow motion, eyes meeting Akaashi’s who shrugs. 

“We should get going. Have a nice day Atsumu!”

“You too.”

They leave the boat without looking back, walking swiftly past Atsumu. It’s snowing again and the wind is cold this morning. Akaashi’s eyes land on the red hoodie Konoha is wearing under his coat and grins. 

“They gave you a hoodie.”

“I’ll give it back to him, but I couldn’t decently go back to the carriage in my outfit from yesterday.”

“Sure.”

The silence expands for a few minutes before Konoha exhales, a small puff os smoke escaping his lips.

“So, you and Miya Osamu-”

“Yeah- shut up-”

“That’s how you got Atsumu’s signature.”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” Konoha whistles.

“And you? How was your night?”

“Uhm- It was- Interesting. I had sex, obviously- Absolutely devastatingly wonderful sex, and that’s all.”

“Okay.”

“Not going to ask more?”

“You’ll tell me next time you’re drunk anyway.”

“My ass hurts so much-”

“Fucking hell, Aki, shut up, it’s 7 in the morning, I haven’t slept- just _don’t._ ”

Konoha laughs and starts telling him everything about Kita Shinsuke.

\---

Akaashi leads them through the hallways under the Gare de l’Est, bringing them to a hidden parking lot reserved for wizards and witches. Seeing Osamu enter his car inevitably brings an idiotic smile on his face. He looks around with curiosity.

“We’ll be driving for five hours so make yourself comfortable,” he tells him, turning the lights and the heater on. “Oh, and you have to put your seatbelt on. Like that.” 

He shows him how to buckle his seatbelt and starts the vehicle. It’s mostly highways with boring landscapes, pretty boring, especially considering it hasn’t snowed everywhere. Osamu quickly falls asleep next to him, his head resting against the window. Akaashi grins and turns on the radio, putting an old home-made CD and starts singing along with the familiar songs. 

“I never really heard you speak French,” Osamu notes a few hours later, yawning loudly as he opens his eyes.

“Well, I wouldn’t speak French to you and since Beauxbâtons allows people from different countries anyway, we usually speak English there. But I speak French with Konoha and Bokuto; and my roommates as well.”

“So, they’re all French?”

“Bokuto’s from Switzerland, but Konoha is French, yes, he comes from the South, so he has the thickest accent ever. But since we spend so much time speaking in English, we use both languages most of the time. It’s pretty annoying for others apparently.”

“Do you have an accent?”

“I used to, then I decided I would get rid of it. If you understood French, you’d notice that after spending a few hours with my parents, my accent comes back. But if you meet me at school, I’d speak to you in standard French. Not Parisian because I’m not a snob, but you know- just _normal-French_ French.”

A _ding!_ sound prevents him from speaking more, his eyes quickly drifting from the road to his phone attached to the window. 

“Shit.”

> **Maman**
> 
> _Bientôt arrivé?_
> 
> _André est avec nous chez mamie donc on aura peut être du retard, mais tu as les clefs hein?_

“Hm?”

Akaashi sighs, eyes already back on the road, biting his lower lip nervously. In his own enthusiasm, he completely forgot to tell his parents about who Osamu was. Well, he hadn’t _forgotten,_ he only decided he would do it later. Which was now, apparently.

“Osamu.”

“Yeah?”

“What are we?”

His slowly swallows his saliva, looking at the road, forcing himself to breathe steadily.

“What do you want us to be?”

“I haven’t told my parents that you were coming. They don’t mind whatever _this_ is, but- you know- if we sleep together, I think I’d uhm- rather tell them we’re _together_ together.”

Osamu sighs and turns his head to look at him, face now flushed as he speaks.

“I don’t mind. But even- even if we were still at Hogwarts. I mean, even if it wasn’t uhm- forced by the situation I wouldn’t mind us being _together_ together.”

“Okay,” he exhales slowly before softly adding, “I wouldn’t mind either.”

They quickly smile at each other, and later, once they find a gas station, he buys them two coffees and sends a quick text to his mom telling her about Osamu.

-

They have four days to enjoy each other’s company; free, with no important consequences. Yet, they end up sleeping for most of the first day, only waking up once dinner is ready. Communication is _interesting_ to say the least. But technology is a beautiful thing and between his mother’s shaky level in English and Google Translate, they manage to spend a pleasant evening. 

“You should go to the Christmas Market in town tomorrow. Since Christmas is over there won’t be as many people as last week. It was _hectic,”_ his father suggests once they cleared the table and all sitting in the living room.

He hands Osamu a glass of champagne with a smile and Akaashi laughs quietly.

“Told you he would open the bottle without the frown.”

\---

The market is still crowded, but Akaashi knows from experience that it’s far from being the worst time of the month to come here. They spent the first half of the day in bed, leaving Akaashi’s house around three in the afternoon, and it’s only after an hour drive that they finally arrive in town. 

“Once the night falls we can go see the Christmas Tree,” he suggests, “but we need to get drunk before,” he announces, bringing Osamu through narrow cobbled streets until they reach a square with a few wooden lodges. 

“The main market is closer to the Cathedral, but the best mulled wine is here. Most people only visit the main streets, but you’re lucky, you’re with someone who was born here.”

Akaashi is walking slightly ahead, his ears covered by the earmuffs Osamu gave him for Christmas, showing him small illegal drawings on the walls, talking excitedly about how one of his friends who graduated from Beauxbâtons two years ago was a big _Godzilla fan,_ so he brought his boyfriend in this exact street to kiss him in front of that particular small Gozilla tag. He’s talking about the city’s history when he feels Osamu’s fingers slip between his, making him stop speaking, eyes travelling left to look at him, squeezing his hand with a small smile. 

He completely forgets about what he was saying, letting Osamu pull him against his chest, letting him kiss him _in public_ for anyone to see. And maybe it’s not _really_ in public, but to them, it surely feels like it, making Akaashi’s heart flutter in his chest.

“We need to get drunk, you said?”

“I’m already drunk on _looooooove,”_ Akaashi answers, laughing and maybe he really is fucking high on love because he never would have said that if he were in his right mind.

He finally brings them to the wood lodge and buys two cups of mulled wine. 

“You can keep the cup or give them back to get half of the price back, and they can re-use them. But I always forget to give them back. I have a giant collection of Christmas Market cups. We use them for everything, but mostly as ashtrays, they make cute ashtrays.”

Bringing the cup to his lips, he blows on the hot beverage, steam flying in the air. He shows him the Cathedral standing behind other smaller buildings. They arrive in front of the building a few minutes later, two waffles in hand. 

“The wind is colder here, and stronger too. There’s a tale that says it’s because the Devil used to ride a monster made of wind. And when the Devil came here and tried to enter the Cathedral, he got trapped inside, leaving the monster outside. They say it’s still running around the building, waiting for its master to come out.”

Osamu laughs while he bites into the warm waffle, whispering about silly Muggle stories, but almost chokes when a gust of wind hits him.

They walk around the city for a few hours before they finally head to the main square where the Christmas Tree is standing, tall and illuminated from head to toe. Some people around them keep walking, not even looking at it, others stop to admire it. Some people queue in front of the lodges around the tree; it’s a tradition that charities get a lodge here to attract more people, so Akaashi stops to buy a small Christmas decoration he’ll give to his parents later. 

There’s something magical about the colours, the smell of mulled wine, German sausages and freshly baked cookies, and the cold feeling of the wind against their face. It’s not snowing anymore, but the scene is still beautiful.

He snaps a quick picture of the tree before turning towards Osamu, tilting his head and pointing at the screen now in _selfie mode_. He smiles when his _boyfriend_ nods, approaching his face until they both stick in the frame, the tree behind them, lights sparkling all around them; and Akaashi clicks on the white circle at the bottom of the screen, immortalizing the moment.

\---

When Osamu leaves, Akaashi’s parents shake his hand, smiling and almost begging him to come back whenever he wants. They only look at each other, not daring to show any sign of affection in front of such an intimate audience, but their eyes speak for themselves. 

It’s only foretaste of what saying goodbye in July will feel like; and Akaashi hates it already.

\---

_january._

Between the days he spends with his parents and the dog, and the days he meets with his Muggle friends, the fourth of January comes before he can even see it coming. But he’ll spend more time with them next year, he tells himself, when there won’t be a deadly tournament involving his best friend going on. He wonders if Bokuto managed to find a solution to the Egg mystery as he enters the Beauxbâtons carriage in the early morning.

Most students are still asleep, so he decides to head to the Great Hall, hoping for a quiet breakfast before having to dive back into Konoha’s shenanigans and Bokuto’s second task problems. 

However.

He enters the large doors leading to the dining hall, expecting to see no more than five students; but instead, he is greeted by the sight of he was not prepared to see. His eyes immediately land on the Ravenclaw table where he usually sits, and his mouth opens slightly. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is sitting there, mindlessly playing with his food with the tip of his fork, apparently not registering the _chaos_ happening around him at all. It’s not unusual to see him awake at such an early hour, he’s seen him sometimes, sitting alone at the table when he met with Osamu for their morning breakfast dates. 

Speaking of Osamu; both Miyas are sitting across from Sakusa, apparently lost in a deep conversation involving a lot of eye-rolls and insults, making Konoha laugh next to Sakusa. Bokuto’s here too, next to Atsumu, nodding with his wisest expression (the one he uses when he doesn’t understand what he’s nodding at). 

Next to Konoha, the Durmstrang parade leader is reading the morning paper, apparently not interested in listening to whatever the twins are discussing. He sometimes looks at the man next to him though, failing at hiding his smile when Konoha sticks his tongue out at Atsumu. 

There’s another Durmstrang student sitting next to Sakusa that Akaashi doesn’t recognize, but he’s looking at the twins with disbelief, so he must be one of the sane ones.

“KEIJI!” it’s Bokuto who sees him first, waving at him with a bright smile.

He doesn’t have the time to even brace himself for the impact of Konoha’s body against his when he runs towards him, arms wide open, crushing him in a tight hug. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR KEIJI”

The few students in the hall who aren’t in their little group look at him with tired eyes, and he laughs quietly- they’ll be quieter another time. 

“What happened during Christmas?” he asks, walking towards the table, looking at the heterogeneous group.

He comes to sit next to Osamu and smiles at him, his hand immediately landing on his thigh in a silent _good morning._ Osamu puts his own hand on his and squeezes gently.

“Well, we were some of the few students who stayed at Hogwarts for New Year’s, so we celebrated together. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you all about it later. You already know the Miyas,” Akaashi smiles at Atsumu who grins back.

“You know Sakusa.”

They politely smile at each other, and Akaashi can’t help but think that a smile looks good on his usually so annoyed face.

“This is Kita Shinsuke,” he introduces the leader of the Durmstrang parade; and the dots definitely connect inside Akaashi’s head. _Kita Shinsuke-_ Konoha’s Yule Ball lover. He smiles politely at the man who nods before going back to his newspaper, “and this is Suna Rintarou.” 

The last student grins similarly to Atsumu; but it looks _wiser,_ smarter than the Quidditch player- 

“I’m Akaashi Keiji,” he finally introduces himself with a soft smile.

“Yeah, we know,” Suna sighs with a smirk, raising his eyebrows at Osamu, daring him to deny what he just said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> i read all your lovely comments but if i start answering them i know i will never manage to keep up with the hectic schedule of this fic :(  
> -konoha is, indeed, from marseille.  
> -if you recognized the city akaashi comes from, im sending extra kuddos to you, and pls come say hi <3  
> -im a basic bitch so i was listening to ludovico einaudi for the yule ball and the osaaka dancing part  
> -IZUMI IS BACK, QUEEN!!!!  
> -akaashi listens to french rap because that's what i usually listen to when im driving lmao  
> -i wont be writing about the vibrating panties unfortunately.


	3. approche la canicule

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> season: spring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!  
> christmas is coming closer and i am with my family now, meaning i will have more time to write!  
> but also this schedule is fucking hectic so idk yet if i'll be able to publish on the 25th yet.  
> this chapter is slightly ANGSTIER, i know i said i wouldnt hurt them, well i lied apparently.
> 
> klaudia, see end notes <3

\---

**THREE.**

**approche la canicule**

_(spring)_

\---

_january._

Grass starts piercing the fluffy coat of snow one afternoon and on the following day, it’s like winter’s gone, chased away by spring. It runs and fills every beating heart with the saccharine smell of hope. But more than hope, spring brings in its smelly little bags, the promise of _love._ For animals, for creatures, for dragons, it’s mating seasons. Wizards may not experience things such as heats (most of them, at least), but there’s still an undeniable rise of romance drama that comes with the blooming of most flowers.

All in all, the Triwizard tournament should be enough drama for all of them. After all, the three Champions are now all on speaking terms, sometimes going as far as _eating breakfast_ with each other (no one outside their group knows they actually celebrated new year’s eve _together,_ though).

Drama is bound to happen. 

When Bokuto starts sleeping with the golden egg, starts bringing it everywhere with him like it’s his most precious possession (it might as well be at this point since it might be a key to his own survival), Akaashi starts considering maybe asking Osamu if Atsumu has found a way to use that thing. See? Drama is coming. 

They’ve all more or less slept with _the enemy._

Osamu and Akaashi, despite never saying anything, aren’t discreet enough for the others not to at least suspect something’s going on. Bokuto and Ushijima made their involvement with each other loud and clear, as well as their loyalty to their school _(Plus Proche,_ Konoha’s favourite French gossip magazine, had a field day when they learnt about Bokuto’s Yule Ball partner and has been harassing everyone around them since then). 

Sakusa and Atsumu have a weird tension going on, whatever their deal is, it is something that involves rivalry and dirty looks; even Konoha stopped looking at the Durmstrang Champion with loving eyes and an enormous gap between his lips (it might be because Sakusa was side-eyeing him with a murderous look; but it might also be because he’s now looking at _someone else_ that way). (speaking of) Kita and Konoha, surprisingly enough, almost immediately called their _thing_ a relationship- and not a _sex-only_ relationship, but a real-established-serious-feelings-involved relationship, with the capital _R_ that usually makes Konoha’s eyes roll so far behind in his skull that he can actually contemplate the pea-size of his brain.

Realistically, one of them will eventually help another school, it will happen, it’s going to happen; Akaashi doesn’t know who’s going to give up and just talk, but it’s one of them.

For now, they’re still stuck looking at that stupid egg with no clue on how to use it; but as soon as one of them finds the key, and lets the others know, without telling them how to open it- drama, although non-romantic, is going to strike.

It’s Bokuto who manages to open it first, after Konoha makes fun of him for carrying the egg everywhere with him _(what you’re going to the toilets with it? are you going to piss on it or what?)._ Bokuto then looks at him like he’s the genius Konoha is actually persuaded he is, and goes to drop the egg in the toilets, eyes widening when it turns blue when he tries to open it _(‘i think you can do it in the bathtub or under the shower instead of- you know, the toilets- wait Kou, were you actually going to piss on it?’ ‘Thought it might have some weird kink.’ Konoha turns red and leaves the room.)_

Akaashi finds out it’s getting harder and harder to keep his mouth shut around Osamu. They don’t talk about it, and he assumes the other couples slash fated rivals don’t do it either. They tip-toe around it, but never go as close as brushing the topic. 

Until one day Osamu comes to the library with a bandaged hand and half of his hair missing. 

He’s mumbling to himself, clearly lost in his own thoughts when he plops on the empty seat next to him, unseeingly looking at what Akaashi’s writing on his parchment paper.

“What happened to you?” Akaashi asks, because that’s what someone would normally do, and also, because he cares.

“Oh- It’s ‘Tsumu’s attempt at doing- said he was a genius, screamed _that the egg just need to be cooked,_ put it in a pan over a big fire- I had to remove the egg with my hands and the fire got into my hair too, but I’m gonna fix it tomorrow.”

“I see,” he hums in semi-approval, too busy telling himself _don’t tell him- don’t tell him-_

“Why would an egg _want_ to be cooked, it doesn’t make sense, and who would cook an egg with its shell in the pan? You normally- _fuck,_ Osamu, you’re a genius!”

Osamu stands up in a blink, burning eyes sitting on top of deep dark circles and leaves without even putting his seat back into place.

Akaashi laughs quietly and goes back to his astronomy essay. If Sakusa managed to find a way to make the egg speak, he doesn’t know about it. He’s still too busy trying to do his homework while thinking about the riddle hidden inside the golden evil egg to care about the Hogwarts Champion.

_Come seek us where our voice is sound_

_We cannot sing above the ground_

_An hour long you'll have to look_

_To recover what we took_

They established the place must be in a place involving water; or maybe Hell, but even wizards aren’t able to visit Hades just yet, so they settle on water; then, they decided the task would probably last for an hour. What would happen if Bokuto is too slow, they don’t know. Is he going to die from the lack of air? 

What would _they_ take? 

Who even are _they?_

“What if they steal his magic, and he has to deal with the task the Muggle way?” Konoha suggests one day, eyes wide in panic. 

They try to think about something else, but the idea lingers, twirling whispers at the back of their minds. That’s how they end up ordering a scuba set from _Decathlon._ He will still have his wand to fight in case they’re mistaken; and if they’re not, he takes a dagger with him to defend himself.

That’s pretty much as far as they go in terms of solving the riddle.

\---

_february._

His astronomy essay is handed to his professor on time, she smiles at him with a nod. 

“Keiji, do you know what you’d like to do once you graduate?” the forty-year old woman asks him as she quickly scans his homework.

“I don’t know, I thought about studying astronomy in a Muggle University.”

“I see. I told you before but your research papers are of great quality. If you ever want to become an Astronomer, I’d be happy to offer you a position as my assistant.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

“Perfect. But I think you can only learn great things by studying Muggle Astronomy; there is a collaboration department between our two folks in Zurich, I believe. We could use your brain and their funds. After all, they managed to send machines in space. I wish wizards were as fascinated by space as the Muggles are.”

It is no secret that most students drop out of Astronomy as soon as they can, going for Charms or Potions specializations instead; the boring telling of old tales written in the stars, that’s what Astronomy is to many, the useless knowledge of what lies upon their heads and what it says about them.

Funny how going to space used to be his dream back when he was a kid; he can still remember the pictures he painted in his own head, of him in a white astronaut outfit, floating in space between hundreds of millions of burning stars, earth looking tiny from where he stands, be it the moon or an unknown galaxy. 

As a Muggle, he probably would have lacked the mathematical knowledge to ever stand a chance; but as a wizard, with society looking at Astronomy like it’s some sort of useless knowledge told by old crazy hermits, he can now see himself working with stars in the future after all. 

“Think about it. We’ll talk more about this once we’re back to France, go help Bokuto now, the moon is likely to have a great influence on the tides on the 24th.”

Akaashi looks at her for a second, not missing the secretive smile she aims at him when she tells him that. So it does involve water; they were right.

-

“Madame Martinez more or less confirmed that the second task involved- Why does the room smell like mulled wine and-” he stops speaking, realizing what he’s going to say, his eyes finally meeting Konoha’s. 

His friend is laying on Bokuto’s bed, head in the pillow, Bokuto apparently very much absent. He rolls on his side to look at Akaashi and grins. 

_“Mulled wine uh?”_

“Fuck.”

“Shin rubbed amortentia on our skins last night, for the scent. Ten out of ten, Akaashi, would fucking recommend, it’s intoxicating- _yeah.”_

Usually, he would be screaming at Konoha to just stop talking about his and Kita’s sexual activities, but this time he just stares, trying to maintain his composure. Konoha’s grin is not going to have any impact on him: the impact thing is Konoha’s domain sure, but as a receiver, so he shouldn’t be able to metaphorically spank him with his stupid ass shit smirk, and yet it still creeps in. 

“Didn’t smell like mulled wine for you the last time I checked.”

“Shut up!”

Konoha sticks his tongue out with a terrible lack of respect for someone who calls himself his best friend. Akaashi still comes to sit on the mattress next to him, sniffing Konoha’s hand to identify exactly what his amortentia smells like now, other than mulled wine.

“You know he didn’t put any on my hands, so if you want to smell, I suggest you come sniff my armpits.”

“I hate you.”

“There is some on my chest as well, you want me to undress?”

Akaashi grimaces but doesn’t say no; he wants to know now, even though it’s not really a surprise that the smell reminds him of a certain someone. He never shared mulled wine with anyone else, or at least not anyone he was interested in.

“Smell me all you want,” Konoha grins.

“This stays between us.”

“Of course, Keiji dear.”

Konoha takes off his shirt, spreading his arms to welcome him into a crushing hug. And it’s not even the smell that strikes him first. 

“What the hell, Aki?” he stares at the bruises covering his chest.

“What- Oh, yeah we uhm- went a bit overboard-”

“You sure you’re not 13 anymore?”

“Leave me alone, at least my amortentia does not smell of _mulled wine.”_

“What does it smell like then?”

“Fire, because Shin’s hot.”

He almost hits him but dutifully keeps his fists clenched by his sides; firstly because Konoha might end up liking it, secondly because his chest is already covered in bruises and Akaashi doesn’t actually want to hurt him (which he definitely will end up doing if he even goes as far as _touching_ him).

Finally, he lowers his head to smell Konoha’s chest, just above his heart, careful not to come too close, and mulled wine slowly drifts away, letting notes of broom wax overtake his brain, lingering for a while. He almost retreats, but allows himself one last sniff revealing the scent of onion soup. 

His fucking amortentia smells like _onion soup._

He can’t help but start laughing at this quite awful realization. 

“What?”

“I can’t believe- this is not happening.”

_“What?”_

“Aki.”

“Does it smell like a dead rat or something?”

“I don’t even know what a dead rat smells like.”

“Believe me, you’ll know when you smell it.”

“It smells like onion soup.”

Konoha stares at him with an unusual lack of emotion, eyes almost deprived of life, tern and stern- 

“Do you mean I smell like onion soup to you right now?”

Akaashi nods and Konoha shoves him off of him, running to the bathroom to take a shower. He doesn’t bother closing the door behind him, shouting over the sound of water falling on ugly white tiles to ask him about his meeting with the Astronomy teacher. It’s no secret that Konoha and Martinez have despised each other for years now, ever since Konoha started counting down the remaining seconds out loud before the end of each class. 

“If this demon says it involves water it probably means we’re wrong, Kou’s probably being sent to the hottest fires of hell.”

“Don’t be mean, Aki,” Akaashi reprimands him with half of a smile catching his lips; yeah, smelling things reminding him of Osamu would do that to him. 

_God, he is whipped._

\---

The Christmas decorations have been taken down for so long it feels like they started hanging out for breakfast together ages ago. 

But as it is often the case, Akaashi finds himself sitting across from Kita, the two of them being the only poor souls already (or still) awake this early. It’s not his fault stars are easier to see at night, meaning he had to condition himself to become a night owl a long time ago (Konoha surely helped). 

Sometimes, Sakusa joins them too, and breakfast happens quietly, each of them politely asking about the others’ nights before eating in silence, Kita hidden between his morning paper, Sakusa mindlessly playing with his food and Akaashi with his eyes set on whatever book he’s been reading.

If he stays until eight, Aran comes to look over Akaashi’s shoulder to see what he’s reading and makes comments about it. He said something about his family being quite the experts in the field, so they usually spend a few hours together then, unless they have class, which, they often do.

In other words, it’s unusual for them to see Atsumu entering the Great Hall at the early hours of dawn, looking panicked when he sees who’s sitting at their usual spot. The loud _shit_ he lets out makes Kita put his newspaper on the table to look at him with a disapproving look.

“You’re alone?” Atsumu asks, looking straight at Akaashi, ignoring Kita with the admirable panache of a young duck.

“I am, yes, Konoha usually doesn’t bother eating in the morning, and I think Bokuto is not up yet.”

“No, I meant, you’re not with Osamu?”

“No?” He answers, confused; should he be? It’s not Friday morning, so there’s no way Atsumu should have been _expecting_ him to be with Osamu, especially on the day before the second task. 

“You haven’t seen him?”

“Not since yesterday afternoon at the library, no, why? Have you lost him?”

“He didn’t sleep in our room.”

Akaashi is far from being the paranoic type; he’s careful, measured. He knows when to take a deep breath and metaphorically slap himself in the face to keep himself from spiralling. Did something happen? Was he _murdered?_ Are the two first thoughts that enter his mind. _Was he with someone else?_ He shrugs this off, there must be an explanation, because there’s no way either of these theories are true: Akaashi wouldn’t accept them anyway (he’s pretty good at denial, for the best and for the worst) 

“Well, I haven’t seen him.” 

“I hope he didn’t fall asleep in the kitchens again because then he won’t wake up before twelve, and he’ll miss the entire task,” Atsumu jokes, but both Kita and Akaashi’s gazes loudly tell him they’re not buying his deplorable attempt at humour.

The Durmstrang student lets his body fall on the bench to sit next to Kita, looking at a plate of scrambled eggs that appears in front of him with a sigh. The remaining of the breakfast expands in a heavy silence before Akaashi goes back to the carriage to check on Bokuto and wake Konoha up. 

\---

The Beauxbâtons team is the first one to arrive at the Black Lake; and when the headmaster announces the location, he can’t help but sigh in relief. They haven’t bought this gas bottle for nothing. Wooden row boats bring them to three stands perking up in the middle of magically created waves- there shouldn’t be so many waves in a _lake,_ right? So, they’re in the middle of the Black Lake which surely proudly wears its name like a crown because there’s no way the sun reaches the bottom of that place: it’s black, from above, and from below the surface. 

Good thing Bokuto has a headlamp.

Konoha and Akaashi are surprisingly allowed to stay with Bokuto on the lowest level of their stands, where they’re offered seats to watch the silent water. 

He looks around him. Each stand is dedicated to one school; he can spot Sakusa on the one next to theirs, standing alone, without Komori or Ushijima to sit behind him. It’s surprising enough for Konoha to actually ask their headmaster if they are really allowed to sit with their champions when Sakusa is alone. De Colnet shrugs, avoiding the question entirely. Akaashi has to use Konoha’s magical binoculars to spot Atsumu, standing with Kita by his side but _there’s_ _no Osamu there._

The weight of instinctive worry makes his shoulders sink a little, but more than that, it’s the shame of being more worried about Osamu than for his best friend who is about to jump in freezing water to fight _god-knows-what_ in a lake where no one will be able to see or hear what’s happening. 

He remembers the speech their headmaster gave them before leaving.

_Once you enter the Triwizard tournament, you stand alone._

“Welcome to the Second Task,” the Hogwarts headmistress announces, taking Akaashi away from his boiling emotions. “Last night, something was stolen from each of our Champions, a treasure of sorts, these three treasures, one for each Champion, now lie at the bottom of the Black Lake. In order to win, each Champion only has to find that treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough. Except for this: they will have 1 hour to do so, and one hour only. After that, they will be on their own and nothing will save them. You may begin at the sound of the canon.”

A loud _bang_ rings above them, loud enough for both Konoha and Akaashi to jump on their seat, screaming one last _good luck_ to Bokuto. 

As soon as the three Champions disappear, a heavy silence falls over the three stands, tensed and poisonous. 

“So it’s not magic they’ve stolen,” Akaashi whispers to Konoha who nods; Bokuto would have noticed if he had been deprived of powers on the night before already. 

“What, then?”

“Something of value? Like something they love, I don’t know, Bokuto’s trophies or something like that?”

But there is really no way to know before one of the Champions comes back to the surface to tell them, or hopefully, _show_ them. The lack of action in front of his eyes almost makes him spiral internally, his stomach tied in tight knots. There’s nothing to distract him from the rotating thoughts inside his brain; where’s Osamu, why isn’t he with Atsumu; where is he, did something happen to him; what is he going to do if something happened to Osamu; should he be looking for him right now instead of just staring at black waves crashing against wood-

He almost blacks out for a minute, attention only caught by the splash of water and the loud scream that erupts from Atsumu’s body crashing at his feet in a pool of bloodied water. 

It takes only a second for his brain to start working. 

But Konoha’s faster. 

He might not be a healer yet, but he still follows enough night classes on the subject to be able to react accordingly. His wand is out before Akaashi even has the time to stand up. 

It only takes a few spells for the major cuts to disappear and for Atsumu to start breathing normally again. But his leg is still bend in a weird way and Konoha stops him from moving.

“I stopped the bleeding, but it doesn’t mean your head’s alright, stop trying to move.”

 _“But Osamu-”_ he starts in a whine that pierces right through Akaashi’s chest.

The panic in his eyes makes both Konoha and Akaashi freeze. And it’s a good thing Konoha already has a hand on Atsumu’s chest to pin him to the wooden floor, because otherwise he would have been too shocked to stop him from moving. The look he gives Akaashi helps keeping him from panicking right now. But he saw the blood, and two thoughts keep entering his mind, relentlessly; 

One. Bokuto might end up getting hurt. It’s a thing he knows, a thing he knew, but it’s not a thing he was ready to picture with _detailed examples_ helping his already too fertile imagination. 

Two. Osamu might end up getting hurt as well. This is brand new. Same detailed examples coupled with too fertile imagination problem still stands, though.

“I have to go back-” Atsumu starts, but he’s cut off by a shout from behind him.

The Durmstrang headmaster is coming closer on his boat with Kita and a medic next to him when another body appears at the surface of the lake. Akaashi gives Konoha one last look before getting closer to the water to help Sakusa climb on the stand. The Beauxbâtons headmaster helps carry Komori; but Sakusa’s cousin isn’t even out of the water entirely that Akaashi hears Atsumu’s voice, loud behind him. 

“Let me go! I have to go back, don’t even try to Stupefy me- I have to get him back-” 

And Akaashi really has to focus on what he’s doing to ignore Atsumu’s scream, to try not to picture what exactly is happening below the waves: Bokuto getting hurt, Osamu getting hurt- He turns around to look at Atsumu as soon as Sakusa is up on the wooden floor, standing and walking towards the other Champion. Atsumu is sitting on a chair, with the medic poking at his head with his wand and his headmaster talking to him. But Akaashi can tell he’s not listening, obviously too out of it to hear anything- until Sakusa appears in his field of vision.

“Omi-”

“What are you doing here?” Sakusa asks, looking at Atsumu with a frown. “Osamu’s still-”

“I know, _please, Omi-”_

“Sakusa,” both the Durmstrang and Beauxbâtons headmasters start.

But it’s too late and Sakusa is already jumping back into the water.

“What the fuck is happening in this lake?” Konoha asks, pinching the bridge of his nose, staring at the dark waves. 

Akaashi’s the only one who notices the way Kita is now standing closer to Konoha, his hand resting on his shoulder in a calming presence. Their eyes lock, and there’s no need for any of them to actually speak. Atsumu ends up being magically bound to his chair, eyes now lost on the water. 

They’re fifteen minutes away from the one-hour limit when _Ushijima_ appears at the surface, quickly followed by Bokuto. 

“KOUTAROU!”

Akaashi and Konoha rush towards their friend, helping him get on the deck. He seems fine, tired, but fine. He takes off his mask and accepts the water the headmaster gives him before his eyes land on Atsumu.

“Everyone alright?” Bokuto asks casually

“ARE _YOU_ ALRIGHT?” Konoha asks, holding Bokuto’s face in his hands.

“I’m fine, I took more time because I uhm- I tried to help Sakusa with Osamu, he should be back soon, I think he was behind me.”

“Oh thank god,” Konoha takes him in his arms and kisses both his temples before letting Akaashi join their hug.

“He was fine when I saw him last, don’t worry Keiji,” Bokuto tells him softly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Bokuto smiles and pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m a bit hurt I’m not your treasure though,” Konoha pouts.

For a split second, he almost forgets everything around him, forgets about Sakusa, Osamu and Atsumu, and it’s only the three of them laughing in the middle of that stupid lake during that stupid tournament. It sounds so absurd now that he thinks about it; what are they even doing here, so far away from home? 

“Look!” 

It’s Konoha who notices Sakusa emerging from the water a few meters away, Osamu’s body floating above him. _Thank god, all the gods, any god,_ he thinks, and he’s sure he hears Atsumu actually sob behind him. 

“You’re going to untie me, or I will fucking kill you!”

“Stay here, don’t go into the water okay?” the medic asks and Atsumu grunts but apparently nods because next thing Akaashi sees is Atsumu standing next to him, ready to take Osamu in his arms as soon as Sakusa lets him drop on the floor. 

He looks okay, Akaashi thinks when he finally arrives, body floating above water, with Sakusa right behind him. 

"’Samu!"

"The fuck ‘Tsumu?"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry so- _fuck!”_

"Hey listen to me asshole! 't's alright, I thought _you_ got hurt."

"I'm fine, just a few scratches, well enough to knock me out- do you think I would have sent Omi to get you otherwise?"

"Are you okay?" Osamu's voice is soft, in a rare display of brotherly love.

"Yeah, now I am, yeah."

Osamu smiles tiredly, before turning around to quickly look at Akaashi who's now standing awkwardly a few meters away.

All his instincts are screaming at him to go there, just hug him, kiss him, hold him, _I was so scared,_ they scream, he could have died, they scream. And yet he just _stands there_.

"Sakusa?" he hears Atsumu say, when Sakusa starts moving, "thank you."

"It's nothing."

The Hogwarts Champion pats his shoulder softly before joining his headmistress on the boat that's going to bring them to the shore. And Akaashi knows there's more to this little gesture, this hand lingering on Atsumu's shoulder, than what it seems. They all know this, Komori, Osamu, Kita, Konoha, Bokuto, Ushijima, him. They've all seen it.

Osamu shares one last look with Akaashi before following his brother, Kita and their headmaster on their small boat. It last for a whole second but his smile seems forced, his eyes haunted. It makes Akaashi shiver.

\---

Sakusa arrives first, getting extra points for bringing Osamu back as well, Bokuto is now second and Atsumu third.

\---

It takes three days for Akaashi to find Osamu sitting at their usual table in the library.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Osamu finally answers after a few silent seconds.

He doesn't look up from his book, but he doesn't flip the pages, doesn't move, almost doesn't breathe.

“How are you?” he finally asks, heart now drumming in his chest, _why aren't you looking at me?_

“I'm fine.”

Akaashi sighs and opens his own book. They don't speak much more that day, they don’t speak at all. And Osamu's face is too hidden behind his hair, looking down at his book for him to be able to see much of his face. 

He never flips the pages, though.

\---

The next time he sees him, he's staring blankly at a shelf, eyes unseeing. The light is dim, but he can still see the dark creases under his eyes, but much more striking, is the state of his hair, it's greasy, thick strands of black hair clogged together. 

"Osamu are you alright?" he asks, coming to sit at his table.

He doesn't meet his eyes. Now that he thinks about it, he might as well have avoided his gaze ever since the second task.

"Mh? Yeah."

"Are you sure?" he asks, almost hesitating to touch him, put his hand on his, his foot against his ankle, to ground him, just- _do something._

"Yeah."

"Okay," he doesn't know what to say.

He's not alright.

\---

Osamu doesn't come to the library anymore after that. 

He only sees him one day, after he's done eating breakfast with Kita and Sakusa, when he leaves the Great Hall as Osamu enters the castle. He hasn't seen him at all since the last time they spoke, doesn't remember even seeing him eating in the Great Hall at all-

"Osamu-" he starts, turning around when Osamu walks past him, not even _seeing_ him.

"Akaa- I- I can't make it on Thursday, I'm sorry," he says, looking at the ground before sighing.

"Okay," what else can he say anyway? There's nothing to say, he can only see him slip away from his grasp in silence. "Okay, it's fine."

"See you later."

_Later._

When? If ever.

"Osamu, are you alright?" he asks, throat burning when their eyes meet.

"Yeah," he lies.

He lies and they both see it.

\---

“Kou?”

“Yeah?”

“What is it like to grow up in a pure blood family?”

Bokuto tilts his head in confusion but sits down, meaning he expects this discussion to last for long enough for him to actually want to get comfortable. They’re in the carriage’s kitchens, drinking Akaashi’s third coffee of the day, Bokuto eating an apple when he finds the courage to finally talk to him about this.

“Why do you ask? I mean, what do you want to know?”

“Are they all… _conservative?”_

He’s not uneducated, knows _from the books,_ that pure blood families are _different._ Pretty much like the Muggle aristocracy. 

The other man starts humming while he thinks, possibly to find the best way to put his thoughts into words. Most people are usually surprised when they learn that Bokuto is not the loud mouth of their group. It’s Konoha who never shuts up.

“I guess they all are, to a certain degree. The purity of our blood doesn’t come from _nowhere_ it’s built on traditions and some fucked-up marriages. Look at my grandparents, they were like- cousins or something. There’s no pure-blood family that isn’t at least a bit conservative. But I think overall, mine’s fine. Not perfect but far from being the worst one. So growing up in a pure blood family involves some weird traditions and a shit ton of expectations, but it’s not that bad, in my case at least.”

“I see.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know- There’s something weird with Osamu and I know his family is a big issue for him, since they’re pure bloods, and they wouldn’t- they wouldn’t _approve_ of us?”

“Mmmh, yeah. I guess no one wants to be disinherited, it’s only natural.” Bokuto says thoughtfully. “Well, my parents were fine with me dating guys because I’m not the eldest child. I know this, they told me this, I’m lucky enough to have an older sister who will carry our name, so I can do whatever I want. It’s probably not the case for Osamu.”

“Yeah.”

“But maybe there’s something else bothering him; have you tried to ask him?”

He remembers Konoha joking that he's scared of the day he's going to realize Bokuto is actually a genius, and Akaashi thinks he might be right; knows he is. Maybe not an academical genius, but a genius nonetheless, in human purity maybe.

So maybe he should ask him, maybe Bokuto’s right, but maybe Osamu needs time, maybe Osamu doesn’t want to talk- and if Akaashi makes him talk, then what kind of monster is he for making him talk when he doesn’t want to?

He remains silent, and starts avoiding Osamu too.

\---

_march._

“Keiji?”

The familiar sound of Osamu’s voice flies softly in the air; Akaashi’s heart flutters in his chest when he hears it. It’s been weeks since the last time they saw each other, talked to each other. Not for the lack of time, but for the lack of _Osamu_ himself. 

He’s laying on the grass. It’s cold, but not freezing; winter is behind them and the Quidditch pitch is still the best place to look at the stars in silence. He could go to the Astronomy tower, it’s better to study the movement of the planets, to take notes, to think. But there’s more to the stars than how they behave: they’re beautiful. It’s as simple as that. 

“I’m sorry,” Osamu whispers.

Akaashi’s eyes are lost in the stars, and it’s like he doesn’t really see anything anymore, but a large curtain of dotted black; there are many thoughts in his head, too many emotions in his heart. He doesn’t turn his head to look at Osamu who’s still standing a few meters away, probably waiting for him to answer, to say something, anything. _Please._

He’s been thinking about this moment for weeks now, the moment they’d finally be alone, just the two of them, when they could finally speak to each other without getting interrupted, without anyone listening but them. He thought about it a lot, imagined how it’d go. _Where were you? Why were you avoiding me? What happened?_ With each passing day, new questions were added, _did you let them get to you? Are you ready to make your parents proud? Am I disappointed? Am I proud?_

Spring brings in its bag its loads of drama, but Akaashi never expected it would happen like this. He likes to pride himself for his pragmatism; likes to think if someone’s hurting him, even barely, he’s going to run away, get rid of that needle in his haystack. But maybe it’s not that easy, after all. Maybe the needle is stuck too far into the stack, maybe it’s a beautiful silver needle that he doesn’t want to throw away, maybe he wants to sting himself with the needle; 

“Will you lie with me?” he says, and with this, he swallows the fucking needle. “Let’s just forget the world for a few hours.” 

He finally tears his gaze away from the stars to look at Osamu’s shining eyes as he quietly lays down next to him, his Durmstrang coat heavy on his shoulders.

“Keiji-”

“Are you here to break up with me?” he finally asks, sending prayers to Konoha’s fierce soul to come save him if he’s right about this.

“What? No.”

_Oh._

_Play it cool,_ but the relief is probably obvious on his face because Osamu’s tight expression relaxes a little, almost amused, before he inhales deeply, eyes leaving Akaashi’s face to reach for the stars.

“No I- I had a thing- I needed to speak to someone.”

“Okay.”

“They gave us a potion to make us unconscious while we were underwater,” he starts, and Akaashi needs only a second to understand what he’s referring to. Water. Second Task. Spending one hour below the surface. “Well, funnily enough, the potion doesn’t work correctly on Animagi.”

“Oh.”

“I asked Motoya how he felt, and he told me it was like a dreamless sleep for him. Then I asked Ushijima, and he just shrugged, saying he wasn’t conscious at all.”

“But you were.”

“It wasn’t _conscious-conscious._ I don’t know what happened, but I could still hear what was happening, felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wasn’t suffocating, but I just- It was _hell,_ and then I heard Atsumu screaming in pain somewhere. It was just _a lot,_ I guess. Well it’s my fault for being unregistered I guess.”

“It’s not your fault.” 

“Yeah. Well, I emerged out of there with PTSD. That’s how the Mind Healer I’ve been seeing calls it, at least. The first week after the task I couldn’t sleep, like- at all, unless I was passing out from exhaustion on my bed. For two or three weeks I couldn’t- I just couldn’t shower, or go near water. ‘Tsumu had to stay with me during the ones I took, he had to speak with me for as long as I was in contact with water, and even then, I sometimes lost it completely. It wasn’t pretty.”

Akaashi nods. There’s nothing he can possibly say to that; so he keeps on listening, to what Osamu says, about the feeling of constant panic, the humiliating process of having to shower with his brother sitting on the toilet seat next to him, the shame he felt when he started counting how many days he could go on without showering without other people noticing. 

“‘Tsumu got tired of it, said I couldn’t keep up with my shit. He sent a letter to Izumi who immediately came here. She made a deal with the headmaster, so I could go back to Poland for my appointments with a Mind Healer who would know how to handle this. I worked with him for the last few weeks. He used some hypnosis techniques on me, I spent almost every night after that crying, but eventually I started sleeping normally again. Well as normally as you can when you’re crying yourself to sleep every night.”

“Osamu-”

“I can shower now, it’s still not _easy,_ but I can do it without Atsumu here. So that’s good.”

“I’m glad,” he whispers, still trying to find the right words; but there will never be enough words to tell him, _and tell him what, anyway?_

“Yeah. I’m sorry for neglecting you, I just- I couldn’t focus, I could barely sleep let alone focus on anything else.”

“Hey, it’s alright.”

“You thought I wanted to break up with you, so I don’t think that’s alright.”

“But you had your reasons to avoid me, which I get. I’d feel better if you actually- I’m not blaming you, okay? But you can talk to me too, yeah? I won’t judge you.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know how to- how to bring it up. I mean, now that I think about it, it’s pretty pathetic, not being able to shower because-”

“It’s not pathetic, it’s how you reacted, and even if you think your reaction was disproportionate, it’s still how you reacted, and that’s not pathetic, it just happens.”

“It’s- Okay; yeah. I’m still sorry for shutting you down, I should have talked to you.”

“And you did, eventually, so it’s alright. Next time, you can come sooner, so I can help you as much as I can.”

“Thank you,” Osamu whispers in one breath, finally turning his head to face Akaashi’s own glazy eyes. “I’ll try my best to talk to you if there’s a next time.”

They roll on their sides, head resting on their elbows, grinning softly, and the stars are shining above them, but there’s a new one in his sky that captivates him way more than the ones he’s used to writing about, and maybe he can’t write about this one, but he can still admire it all the same.

Osamu’s mouth is cold against his when he finally kisses him, hesitant for the first time in a long time. But as soon as he smiles against his lips, Akaashi lets his shoulders relax slowly, resting his forehead against the other man’s with a soft smile, eyes still closed as he whispers;

“I’m not just here to have fun and sex; you can trust me with your less _appealing_ thoughts too, you know?” 

“Yeah, now, I know.”

\---

They still stop going to the Quidditch pitch together on Thursday nights. Osamu’s going to his mind healing sessions, tells him it’s fine if he wants to invite someone else to play with him to blow of some steam, that they might have to find another way to see each other. 

Akaashi smiles and nods, invites Aran to watch the stars with him. 

The Durmstrang student tells him all about the roots of his knowledge, the way his family is seen as inferior because they believe the stars influence the world, tells him about the way their magic is different from the one he’s used to studying at school. And Akaashi listens, captivated.

“I come from a pure blood family, so I’m fine.” He sits down on the bench after explaining this to him, gives Akaashi his star map back and looks up at the stars, a soft smile on his lips as he shrugs. “I’ve known the Miyas since forever. We grew up together, the Miyas, the Haibas, and us.”

There’s a sincere feeling of trust between all the Durmstrang students he came to know during his breakfast sessions with them, and it’s not surprising that it comes from growing up together, although Kita and Suna probably came long after. 

Osamu trusts all of them enough not to hide when he’s around them, not going as far as _touching_ Akaashi, but his eyes aren’t as guarded, as cold, his shoulders aren’t as tense. He noticed this in Atsumu too, although he’s not really familiar with the guy outside their small group.

“I’ve seen him grow and change over time. He’s been happier lately, I can tell.” Aran continues, and Akaashi’s heart grows, “it started when he said he didn’t want to play Quidditch anymore, that he wanted to pursue a career in Potions, whatever that meant at that time. They both grew up a lot that day, they were miserable for a few weeks, by that I mean they fought more than usual, and then, they finally accepted it. I don’t know if they talked about it, but they seemed happier after that. When they said we were coming here, I thought it would be weird. The entire school knows about their fight, about Osamu quitting Quidditch. It was a big deal back then, but now no one cares anymore. I was scared that once we would leave the castle, come to another place, people would start looking down on him because of his decision again. I don’t think they did. To be fair, I think I underestimated him, because I truly don’t think he would care about what they would say about it anymore.” 

His own eyes get lost in the sky too, listening to Aran’s deep voice. 

“He always cared too much about what other people think about him. So, when he told about you, I was scared. That it would make him spiral, that he would be alone in this. Well he obviously isn’t since apparently everyone around us is more or less interested in guys,” Aran laughs softly at this, “I don’t know how you’re planning to handle what comes after the tournament, but- You’re not from a pure-blood family, right?”

“Muggle-born,” Akaashi answers with a grimace.

“Yeah, figured. Basically, it’s gonna be shit. He doesn’t talk a lot, so I guess he won’t talk to you about it, but- I think you should start thinking about it, if you don’t want to face whatever’s coming once we leave, I- I can’t _ask_ anything, but I think it’d be better if you broke things off before we leave.”

Aran sighs, obviously avoiding looking at him now.

“I know it’s not my place, but Osamu’s never been as happy as he is right now, and I think it’s better if I warn you about- _this,_ before you find yourself in a situation you haven’t been prepared to.”

“Will they hurt him? If they find out?”

“They won’t find out.”

“But if they do.”

“Perhaps they could find an agreement.”

“But he might get hurt.”

“Them finding out or not, is not what matters. What matters is that it’s going to be messy, and he will need someone to rely on, even if they don’t find out.”

 _I’ve never asked for this,_ he catches himself thinking, he never signed up for a messy coming out story, for conservative parents and a terrible family story.

He, Konoha and Bokuto always had the chance to be with people who were comfortable with their desires, they never had to handle- But he does remember Konoha whining about not being responsible for someone else’s messy family when they were younger, remembers Bokuto’s breakdown after someone told him they couldn’t be seen together. 

But Osamu’s words, _(‘I’ll try my best to talk to you next time.’),_ Aran’s words _(‘He doesn’t speak a lot.’),_ they make his heart ache; he doesn’t speak a lot; he doesn’t speak a lot but with Akaashi, he does, _tries to,_ at least, because he trusts him, somehow. 

_But I’ve never asked for this,_ he repeats in his head, yeah, he never asked for this.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle it, but I’ll try my best to be there for him.”

Aran looks at him, _really_ looks at him and smiles. 

“Ah, young love.”

“You’re only one year older.”

“Yeah, well, I have the wisdom of the stars and old prophecies with me.”

“And what do they say about Osamu and I, then?”

“Ah- I can’t tell you, it would ruin the fun!”

Just before leaving, he hands him a piece of parchment paper with a nod. 

“Osamu told me to give you this. Goodnight, Akaashi, we should do that again sometime!”

He disappears behind the Quidditch Pitch gates, darkness swallowing him whole, before Akaashi has the time to read Osamu’s letter.

> _‘Keiji,_
> 
> _Can we meet on Monday nights from now on? I know you start at eight on Tuesdays, but we could meet earlier in the evening, so we wouldn’t have to go to bed too late. Also, I have a favour to ask you, but I’d rather talk to you about it in person, I’ll be in the library tomorrow afternoon but whenever you have the time is good._
> 
> _Osamu.’_

\---

The hallway is silent and darkness has coated all the bricks on the wall when Akaashi arrives at the fifth floor. It’s more dangerous to come here than the Quidditch Pitch, but Osamu got him with the first thing he told him, _(‘I need you, please’)._ It wasn’t pleading, or anything, just a soft favour asked from him.

_“I’ve been coming here for two weeks to try and get used to the sensation of being surrounded by water. I’m fine with showers now. I can deal with being surrounded by water if I’m still gripping the edge of the pool. But I want to be able to put my head underwater and be in the middle of the pool. But I don’t think I can handle doing it without knowing I have someone to pull me out if I panic. At least at first.”_

There was no way in hell Akaashi was saying no to this; not when Osamu was being so open about needing help.

“Oh, you’re already here.”

“Yeah, I was at the library, so I came down here directly.”

“Follow me.”

He walks beside Osamu who stops in front of a wooden door Akaashi never paid attention before, not that he really pays attention to the Hogwarts corridors considering all their classes happen back at the Beauxbâtons carriage. 

“Pine fresh,” he gives the password to the wooden door, which opens in a creaking sound. “Sakusa gave me the password,” he explains, “Atsumu must have told him about my problems.”

Osamu closes the door behind them as Akaashi takes in the sight of the giant pool in front of him. It’s a giant bathroom, with dozens of different taps, a giant ceiling and a mermaid stained window. 

“Any colour you fancy for you water?”

“Pink?”

“Oh, interesting,” Osamu laughs and the bathtub starts being filled with pink water from the flick of his wand that opens the tap. 

The first session goes well, if Osamu barely leaves the edge of the pool, he still manages to keep his arms by his side, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. The second time they come, he goes to stand a little further away from the edge.

And so it goes.

\---

_april._

The first time he tries to put his head underwater is the first time Akaashi has to physically bring out of the water. Panic attacks aren't foreign to him, internally or externally. He's dealt with them himself for years, has dealt with Konoha's for years too. He puts his hand on his back and whispers sweet nothings into his ears; he's not sure Osamu can hear him, but he still speaks, rubbing his bare back with the tip of his fingers, kissing his shoulders through the towel he threw on him as soon as he was seated on the marble floor. 

They stay like this, naked on the wet tiles for what seems like hours, and the loud breathing turns into quiet sighs, small whimpers he's not even sure he heard right. 

The only thing they have is moments, happy moments, sad moments. 

Osamu runs after him one day, a fist full of spongy potion ingredients Akaashi doesn't know the name of, ready to throw them at his face, laughing for anyone to hear. 

They only have moments, some of them are happy, even when the sad ones come on the same day, when he tells him he maybe should have drowned in that lake. 

But there are happy moments, that Akaashi holds on to when he wraps his arms around Osamu's shaking shoulders. 

These moments are the ones that make everything worth it.

When he shakes against his naked skin, trying to muffle his whimpers in his fist, he knows there's more to it than just his new relationship with water. It's more than just the water, and if watery problem there is, it's the metaphorical giant ocean of his thoughts that he's drowning in right now. And Akaashi might be physically able to pull him out of the pool, but the emotional ocean seems infinite from where he stands.

Yet, he still tries again. 

And there's undeniable strength in that simple nod he gives him just before letting his body sink underwater. Akaashi knows he’d never have been able to do that. Denial, cowardice, he knows when something bigger than him, stronger than him. At least he thought he did, because Konoha happened, Bokuto happened, Osamu happened. Three unmistakable flaws in the perfection of his protected code. He counts to ten before Osamu emerges from the orange water, blinking the liquid away from his grey eyes.

They start coming three times a week, there's something addictive, almost, in the way Osamu keeps wanting to come, never knowing if the day will end with him being exhausted from crying or from gleeful laughter. 

It gets better, Akaashi can tell. 

He sleeps better, manages to stand in the middle of the pool with Akaashi standing outside of it. 

“I'm able to cast a Patronus charm again,” he announces one day, with a smile as bright as the moon shining behind the window. “I'm still trying to create a corporeal one. Atsumu did it last week, so I need to keep up.”

“You're an Animagus, but you can't create a corporeal Patronus?” Akaashi remarks with a surprised tilt of his head. 

It’s not an easy spell, but creating a corporeal Patronus is only a second cycle level spell; it shouldn’t be that hard for _the Miyas_ to cast one, unless they really are bad at Charms, or really bad at gathering positive thoughts (which, all things considered, might be the case).

“We study Dark Arts at Durmstrang, so the Patronus spell is something we're inherently bad at. Once your wand gets accustomed to Dark magic, it’s harder to produce a Patronus.”

“Oh.”

“But I think I might be on the right path,” he says, gaze leaving Akaashi’s to drip towards the water. “It’s easier to picture happy memories now.”

They’re sitting on the edge of the pool, in the eternal glory of their nakedness, not even bothering to wear swimsuits anymore (they’ve discarded the idea after their second meeting in the prefect’s bathroom). Osamu rubs his wet face against Akaashi’s just-as-wet-now neck. 

“Want to go fly around the Pitch on Thursday night?”

Yeah, things are getting better, he thinks, when he kisses the top of Osamu’s head, buries his nose inside his wet hair. Things have been getting better for a while now. 

They only have moments, the good and the bad; and if he holds onto the good ones when he rubs his naked shoulders, draws arabesques on his back, he finds out they’re not what makes it worth it. It’s not the good, or the bad, that makes it worth it. What makes it worth it, is Osamu, who doesn’t stop existing outside these moments, who still laughs and cries outside these moments that they share in the intimacy of their meetings. Outside their shared memories, Osamu still smiles, still breaks down in the secrecy of his bedroom, but he’s still worth it nonetheless.

He blinks, and it’s like the planets are finally aligned, in a perfect line that allows the dots to finally connect in the wide space of his brain.

“I love you,” Akaashi whispers, his heart throbbing in his chest when he says it, the realization taking over him so completely he says it _out loud._ They’re both looking at the clear blue water in the pool, time stilling for a moment. _“Fuck,”_ he curses, he said it out loud, had the realization out loud, for Osamu to hear.

Suddenly, he wants to take it all back, to bury himself into the ground, to never look at Osamu in the eyes again- too bad Osamu’s face is really close to his right now and _oh_ it’s getting closer. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, “I love you too.”

He lets his forehead fall against his, brushing his nose with his, mixing his breath with his, and it’s probably the happiest he has felt in a long time. It’s Osamu who kisses him first, with both his hands softly cupping his face. It’s Osamu who jumps into the pool first, making Akaashi lean forwards to keep kissing him, his now wet fingers buried in his hair. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” Osamu whispers against his lips, “it’s been so long,” and everything is so wet, and the air is thick from the steam emanating from the water; his brain isn’t even clear anymore.

It’s been a long time indeed. 

Osamu’s hands come to rest on Akaashi’s waist, gripping his hips to make him slide into the water. As soon as he lands on the ground and feels the tiles against his back, he feels a new wave of arousal lapping at his insides, fuelled even more by the feeling of Osamu’s hard length against his. 

“This will definitely help me like water more.”

“You could have said so weeks ago, you know?” Akaashi laughs, making Osamu kiss his teeth.

“Nah, I like drowning, and crying and stuff.”

Akaashi doesn’t answer, simply opens his mouth and deepens their kiss, pulling Osamu closer to him. He wraps his legs around his waist, allowing him to gain a few centimetres. They quickly run out of breath, from excitement, from the heavy humid air around them, from kissing too hard, for too long. He grips Osamu’s shoulders, enjoying the feeling of wet skin under his fingertips, kisses the side of his face, buries his hands in his dripping hair. 

They’re both hard by the time they take a few minutes to breathe, looking at each other in the eyes, panting from the rising frustration. 

“Keiji-” Osamu finally whispers, “want to feel you,” and there’s the same type of determination burning in his eyes than the one Akaashi’s grown accustomed to see each time he entered the pool to fight against the water. 

“What do you-”

“Inside me- I wanna try it,” he says with a firm tone.

_“Fuck.”_

Okay, he probably should have asked if he’s sure, if he has thought this through, but the burning eyes answer all his unasked questions in one look that travels straight to his dick. 

Their mouths crash against each other again, this time hungrier, tongues battling for dominance until he manoeuvres Osamu against the edge of the pool, pressing his thigh between his legs, against his naked crotch, making him moan. He finally leaves his mouth to bite his shoulders, his neck, tasting his skin, it’s been so long; the taste of wet skin against his tongue when he sucks on it almost makes him miss the movement of Osamu’s hips when he starts impatiently grinding against his thigh.

“Up,” he orders, helping him to get out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool, legs spread wide enough to allow Akaashi between them. 

He plants lazy kisses on the inside of his thighs, biting softly at the wet flesh, sucks little marks on the pale skin and Osamu curses above him. His large hands come to rest in his hair, pushing them away from his face to look at him in the eyes as he swallows the tip of his cock, tongue resting flat against the head. The fingers in his hair start tightening their grip and so, he moves. 

“Oh god,” comes the curse above him as he bobs his head slowly, moaning when he feels the first pearls of pre-cum land on his tongue. His speed increases slightly with each moan dripping from Osamu’s mouth, with each tug at his hair, each small move of his hips. 

There’s no sound that reverberates against the tiles apart from Osamu’s quiet moans and the noise of water crashing against the marble floor. It’s intimate; in the suffocating heaviness of the air, the heavy silence in his ears when Osamu stops moaning for a second. There’s nothing but the wet splashes of water and the beating of his own heart in his ears. 

Need, he finds out, temptation and hunger, are harder to fight when air, heat and water mix around their bodies, making skins wetter and breaths heavier. He keeps his lips around Osamu’s shaft while looking for his wand; replaces his mouth with his free hand and warns him.

“It might feel a bit cold at first, but it’ll warm up,” he gently pushes against his abs to make him lay down, and Osamu instinctively bends one knee, his other leg still in the water resting on Akaashi’s shoulder. 

He gently approaches his entrance with his wand, his other hand still pumping Osamu’s dick slowly, keeping it hard between his fingers. He feels his lover tense when he puts his wand away, making sure the spell worked correctly by rubbing his entrance with the tip of his index finger. 

But Osamu really is eager for someone who’s never done this before, because his hips roll in a way that makes him enter him up to the first knuckle in one movement. His brain feels heavy in his head, burning and foggy as the air around them when he hears Osamu’s muffled moan. So different from his own behaviour during his first time getting it. He pushes his finger inside his lover, going deeper, smiling when he hears Osamu curse. 

Apparently, he’s more responsive than Akaashi to the spell because he doesn’t seem to feel any discomfort when he adds a second finger, curling them in the same way that makes him lose his mind; he only has to move them a bit before Osamu’s upper body jolts up from the floor in surprise, a loud _‘ah!’_ escaping his lips. 

He massages his prostate a few times and Osamu completely gives up on trying to muffle his voice, now letting his back arch from the wet tiles he fell back on, his hands gripping the air when he moans _Keiji,_ asks for _more._ But he wants to make it last, wants to burn this picture inside his retina, of Osamu arched back, of the drops of waters sliding down his body, of his now leaking dick standing hard between his fingers, of his fingers buried up to the second knuckle inside him. 

“Keiji- _please!”_

 _“Fuck, fuck, sorry I-”_ he keeps fingering him, eyes glued to the stretched rim, the movements of his hips, and he just can’t seem to stop, just wants _more-_ to put more, to see it can stretch further. It can, it most certainly can, he realizes when he lets a fourth finger hover over Osamu’s entrance, and he just whimpers, slightly opening his legs wider. _One day,_ he thinks, but not today; and he tugs at his hips to make him slide inside the water again. 

Osamu’s mouth is on his in a second, devouring him as he wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer against his chest until they’re touching in every way they can except for one. 

“Turn around,” he asks, until Osamu’s bending over the edge, his chest flat against marble tiles, his arms stretched in front of him; and they both know he should have something to hold on to, but there’s nothing but the wet floor for him to grip.

Standing behind him, his fingers gently scratching his back, Akaashi plants kisses on his skin as he aligns himself with his entrance, gasping at the feeling, the realization of what’s going to happen; blood roars in his ears, making it hard for him to breath for a few moments, and he lingers here, one hand spread on Osamu’s smaller back, the other holding his length against his lover. 

“Keiji-”

_“Yeah, I-”_

“Fuck me.”

“Oh god.”

He sinks in, unable to breathe when he enters the tight heat that wraps perfectly around him. 

It’s suffocating, and he has to close his eyes for a minute because if he looks at the tensing shoulder blades in front of him, he knows he might lose it- and Osamu’s continuous stream of curses whined towards the sky is not helping _at all._

“Fuck- Shut up, Osamu or-”

_“Keiji- anhh”_

He pushes in, retreats before pushing in deeper, continues for a while, finally opening his eyes to watch in awe as the rim stretches around his cock under the blue filter of the coloured water. This spell is definitely a fucking blessing because it’s tight, and _wet, so wet_ around him; he’s finally fully seated in when Osamu stops moaning, gasping instead, back arched as he rests on his elbows, his head hanging loose between his shoulders.

“Fuck.”

“How do you feel?”

“Full.”

“I meant-”

“Good, good, I feel _so fucking good,_ I had no idea it would be so different from my fingers.”

“Osam-”

“Now _please_ can you move?”

So, he does, he draws back slowly, rolling his hips and pushes back in, gently, until Osamu starts whining, and pushing back against him, fucking himself harder on his dick; and when he stands up, pushing himself back up until he’s resting on his elbows on the edge of the pool, arching his back, Akaashi grips his hips, accompanying him in his movement. He starts rocking himself on his cock, head thrown back, his hair now dripping over Akaashi’s shoulders; 

Something snaps inside him; he’s certainly not going to let Osamu take charge. _Hell no._ One of his hands leaves Osamu’s hip to travel up, resting on his shoulder blades, and he pushes him down, firm and commanding, his other hand gripping the side of his waist until he stops moving against his cock. And with this, he bottoms out before pushing back in, in a sharp thrust, until Osamu starts moaning loudly again; it takes three more thrusts for him to start crying out his name; five for him to bury his face in the crook of his elbow; after ten he’s nothing but a whining mess. 

He almost covers the sound of water splashing around them with his moans. It’s absolutely gross to leave cum inside the bathtub, he quickly thinks, imagining Sakusa’s face if he saw them like that. For a second, he therefore considers finishing all this on the floor, and the rawness of the idea almost makes him do it; fucking on the floor, there’s something about it that stirs something inside him- but the tiles are sharp, and he’s not sure Osamu wants to have literal cuts on his back- _yeah, here is good,_ water’s warm and Osamu is too. 

He wraps his fingers around Osamu’s cock and the whimpers turn into moans coming from the bottom of his throat, something so raw and instinctive it doesn’t mean _please,_ like most whimpers do, doesn’t demand- it’s just a reaction to an action, an answer to an affirmation. 

_“Keiji-”_

“Please tell me you’re close-”

“Yes, yes, _yes, oh god-”_

Osamu tenses under him when he comes, squeezes around him when he comes, it’s wet, and it gets tighter, tighter. He keeps moving his hips, feeling his own insides start to be set aflame, and it rises, making him tense more and more, as he feels it building up, proportionate to how hard he’s squeezing around him. 

_“Oh fuck- fuck fuck, Osam- nngh,”_ he moans. 

He leans forward, forehead now resting between Osamu’s shoulder blades while he keeps fucking him, each movement of his hips bringing him closer and closer- 

“I love you,” Osamu whispers tiredly under him, and that’s what makes the last dam break. 

He pushes in one last time with a sharp snap of his hips and finally stills, moaning Osamu’s name as he comes inside him. 

“I love you too,” he says once he comes down, kissing Osamu’s back lazily before they both slip inside the pool again, moving far away from the part they soiled with their activities. 

“Mmmmh,” Osamu hums once they’re sitting on the marble stairs of the pool, Akaashi’s face resting on his shoulder, “I like it when you say you love me.”

“Yeah, I like it too,” he answers, closing his eyes to tame the soft beating of his heart, the warmth in his stomach, it’s just too familiar, safe and solid- and it’s only been a few months, six at best- “I love you,” he says, in lack of a better way to make his throbbing heart calm down.

\---

_may._

They’re up above the ground, Osamu’s Quaffle resting under Akaashi’s armpit when his boyfriend takes out his wand with a grin. 

“By the way,” he starts with a smile that warms Akaashi’s entire body, “I have something to show you!”

He stares at his wand, brows furrowed, inhales deeply and smiles softly.

 _“Expecto patronum,”_ he says, with a flick of his wand. 

A silver hummingbird appears in the air, flapping its wings rapidly as it flies around them. But Akaashi quickly diverts his attention from the bird to Osamu’s face, illuminated by smoking silver light, eyes bright while he follows the small animal flying around his head, completely oblivious to Akaashi’s own shining gaze. 

“What’s yours?” he asks, finally drifting his eyes away from the hummingbird that’s now flying above his shoulder. 

Akaashi smiles softly and takes his wand out; 

Of course his mind is filled with memories of Bokuto and Konoha; that time Bokuto hugged him for a few long minutes after his first breakup, that time he realized this wonderful jewel of a man was actually _his friend,_ in a way that went beyond their Quidditch and fencing practice; that time Konoha took at least twenty pictures of himself with Akaashi’s old and destroyed teddy bear (pictures they both pinned to their cork boards over their respective desks); that time they both captured him after his History class to give him the _sex ed_ talk. 

He pictures Osamu in the middle of his childhood kitchen, eating a gigantic _tartine_ that his mom made; memories of their first kiss, in the same place, of that time he managed to hold his breath for a few seconds underwater without panicking and the laugh that erupted from his throat;

Osamu’s light laugh echoes in his ears, and it’s the only thing he thinks about when he murmurs the spell and making his heron appear in front of him, flying above them, quickly joined by Osamu’s hummingbird.

He laughs and watches the two birds fly around them, the very projection of their own intertwined hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> i saw somewhere that the expression “tongues battling for dominance” was almost 20 years old now, so i thought it would be time for me to celebrate this masterpiece!
> 
> -so, klaudia, imagine what went through SKATS's minds during the second task, and THE ANGST that came from that, the SOFT TENDER CUDDLES I AM CRYING JUST THINKING ABOUT IT OK ??????? they might not fuck for a while after that bc they're too busy CUDDLING,,, YES!!!.  
> -akaashi's patronus is something i chose a while ago for personal reasons, osamu's patronus could have been a fox or a heron too but then i made a twitter poll and had to settle for something else, i.e., a hummingbird because it's a bird that.. eats a lot lmao. and also there's a tale about a heron and a humming bird that i found cute as fuck.


	4. tous les feux sont oranges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> season: summer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!  
> i had to rush this chapter since i didn't have a full week to work on it, i hope you will like anyway!!! i was emotional while writing it. 
> 
> i will come edit and proofread everything later but i: NEED A BREAK. the writing schedule for this fic is hectic so, im sorry for small inaccuracies and typos.  
> i made klaudia choose a number at the very beginning of this fic, to choose the winner of the tournament. which is funny considering who won.
> 
> KLAUDIA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HERE HAVE WILDE SCENE BUT OSAAKA STYLE
> 
> VOCABULARY (potential spoiler so read only if you're not familiar with hp universe)  
> A Howler is a magical letter in a red envelope which enchanted the written message into the writer's voice, usually at a very high volume.  
> A Boggart is an amortal shape-shifting non-being that takes on the form of its observer's worst fear.

\---

**FOUR.**

**tous les feux sont oranges**

**(summer)**

\---

_june._

The wind gets warmer on their skin, if it even is there at all, but ice is now nested inside their chests, hidden behind their ribs. It doesn’t melt, no matter how many nights they spend cuddled together in each other’s bed. It’s not _that many_ nights, mostly the ones when Atsumu is nowhere to be found (Akaashi’s guess is that he’s in Sakusa’s room, but who knows with these two) or when they just can’t get enough of each other. 

They sometimes allow themselves the comfort of each other’s arms. 

It goes unsaid, but it comes for each and every one of their necks, not only Osamu and Akaashi. Konoha disappears every night now, and Akaashi walks on Bokuto and Ushijima more than once.

The heavy knowledge that they only have one month left, it’s _suffocating._

It hovers over their heads, heavy in their minds. It’s like it’s _a presence,_ someone sitting next to them, reminding them every hour, every minute they spend together, that nothing lasts forever, that one day they’re all going to leave. Sooner than later, they'll forget about each other.

So, they spend more time than ever together. 

But summer is suddenly suffocating in a way it shouldn’t be, especially in the UK. 

Nostalgia blooms, thorns slithering around their lungs, in their chests, and they all silently start counting the days they have left. Akaashi tries not to, but it’s stronger than him. _You have to take advantage of every moment you get._ Before it’s too late. But every moment is now painted with the blueish shade of anguish. 

They don’t talk about what comes next, feigning being fine with simply enjoying the present; but even Konoha has a hard time hiding the failures cracking his usual _carpe diem_ philosophy.

\---

With his whirling thoughts and the never ending pit of his anxiety, he finds himself going to the Quidditch Pitch more often than usual. 

Apparently, he is not the only one who thought going to fly around the field would help him calm down, because as soon as he steps out of the Beauxbâtons carriage, Bokuto calls him from behind. 

“Are you going to the pitch?” he asks, eyeing his broom. He’s wearing his own Quidditch uniform and carries his broom on his shoulder. “Aki’s coming too.”

It’s early in the evening, so it’s not surprising that Bokuto wants to exercise. Konoha though, usually doesn’t do anything else in the evening than laze around or work for the essays he hasn’t written yet but should have finished already. 

“Yeah, I need to take my mind off _stuff.”_

Bokuto nods solemnly. 

“Yeah, we all need that these days; but you always think too much. It’s kinda scary.”

“Mmmh.”

“It’s about Osamu isn’t it?”

“Mostly.”

“You can’t predict what’s going to happen.”

“Means I need to prepare for every eventuality.”

“You can’t do that.”

“You know how he is, he’s gonna try anyway,” Konoha says when he arrives. He’s carrying his broom horizontally on his shoulders and grins at Akaashi. “We were thinking ‘bout playing with some other students, you want to join?” 

Akaashi hums with a nod and watches as a familiar silver hyena springs out of Konoha’s wand. The Patronus sits in the air in front of them listening to her owner's message to Kita and Sakusa. The hyena disappears in a puff of bright silver smoke, and they start walking towards the Quidditch Pitch in silence. 

-

Sakusa brings Ushijima and three other players with him, while Kita brings the twins and Aran. Osamu grins when he sees Akaashi walking beside Bokuto. The three boys Akaashi has never met introduce themselves; they’re all from Hogwarts, Hinata, Kageyama and Kuroo, they say one after the other, all Chasers for their House team. Apparently most of the others know them because there’s no hesitation in Konoha’s eyes when Kita approaches him to say hello with a chaste kiss on his cheek. 

“Hinata and Kageyama are the youngest ones, so they’re the ones who will pick up the teams,” Kita declares.

As always when Kita speaks, everyone listens.

“I want to play with Atsumu,” Kageyama says, and with this, the competitive spirit that burns in every Quidditch player wakes up. 

Akaashi is picked after Bokuto. They only have one beater in each team: Bokuto and Ushijima; so he hopes he won’t end up dying from a concussion. 

He’ll have to play against Kita as a Seeker and the simple thought of having a rival of _that calibre_ just makes his skin itch with both anticipation and fear. 

Osamu ends up in the opposing team as Chaser with Hinata and Kuroo, playing against Atsumu, Kageyama and Aran. 

Sakusa comes to stand next to Akaashi when he’s designated as their Keeper. Konoha grins at both him and Bokuto when he joins Hinata's team. 

“Don’t think I’ll go easy on you, Atsumu.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, Akinori.”

 _Akino-_ Once again, Akaashi doesn’t want to know, he really doesn’t. No matter the universe, or the season, or for how long they’ve been friends, he knows that tone, and he just doesn’t have the strength to deal with _this._

So, he just looks at Osamu who rolls his eyes at his twin and starts walking away to go take his position in the middle of the field. 

Thank god days are longer now; the sky is still clear enough for them to have a clear view of the field _._ The Snitch is released just before the Bludgers. The Quaffle is thrown in the air by Kita and the game starts.

-

Sakusa is an incredible Keeper and Akaashi is absolutely delighted to have him in their team. There is no way anyone else (meaning: Konoha) would have been able to stop Hinata and Kuroo’s combo, or Osamu’s powerful throws. 

The twins are, unfortunately for them, neutralized by each other, making them almost useless. 

But Kageyama and Atsumu have a chemistry that comes from sharing the same type of genius instincts, and Aran and Atsumu have the advantage of often playing together. It becomes obvious pretty quickly that Akaashi’s team has an advantage. 

As good as Konoha is, he still never thought about going pro and if he actually manages to _score a point, what the hell,_ he still isn’t as good as Sakusa, only catching one out of three balls Atsumu throws at him. 

“You’re distracted, _Aki.”_

 _OH IT’S AKI NOW,_ Akaashi’s brain screams when he hears them taunting each other.

It makes him stare too hard, he knows it, realistically. He should be looking for the Snitch, he knows that too. But Konoha doesn’t even blush like he should have _,_ he just- he just stares at Atsumu and grins. 

“‘Cause _you’re_ distracting,” he says.

Akaashi flies away. It’s none of his business.

-

He ends up racing Kita for the Snitch, but the Durmstrang student is faster than him, and his fingers close around the golden ball before he even stretches his arm. 

With this, the match ends, but even Kita’s 150 additional points fail to close the gap between the two teams. 

“Congratulations,” Osamu tells him, throwing a water bottle at his face.

“Thanks.”

He catches it.

Hinata and Kageyama leave soon after with a quick handshake; they have to study for their O.W.L.S. or their captains will throw them out. 

_Ah, youth._

The other older students stay exactly where they are, sweaty and exhausted but too high on adrenaline to walk away. The sun sets behind the castle and they just stay there, looking at it.

“It’s going to feel weird once you guys leave, empty,” Kuroo says, apparently innocently because no one throws a shoe at his face for the audacity of his statement.

Instead, Osamu’s gaze meets his.

No one answers. 

\---

It’s easier for Osamu to sneak in and out of the carriage in his Animagus form. No one says anything about the weird fox that comes and goes. He doesn’t even know if anyone noticed. Maybe they just think someone got a new pet recently.

Antoine and Charles have not seen him, he’s sure about this. They would have said something, they’ve been friends for long enough. As friends as you can be when you used to have an aversion for messes and your roommates turn out to be two teenage pigs in human form. But they’re close enough for them to still tease him about that _one time_ he came back with a red bruise on his neck. 

But they’ve never noticed the small fox that hides under Akaashi’s bed until they’re busy; they never notice the slender figure that slides under Akaashi’s blanket to come snuggle against his bare chest. 

Osamu doesn’t turn back into his human form. They wouldn’t fit in a single bed, at least not in a way that would go unnoticed by his roommates. But his fox form feels perfect against Akaashi’s chest; if he stopped sleeping with a teddy bear when he arrived at Beauxbâtons, he’s quickly getting used to having another presence in his bed again.

The fox’s thick winter fur has fallen off, only leaving him with shorter sandy brown hairs. At least, Akaashi doesn’t have to worry about dying of overheat. His fluffy tail is wrapped around his small body and how could such a _big_ man with _these_ shoulders look so small. 

His ears move enthusiastically every time his boyfriend scratches the top of his head, and he has to admit he sometimes forgets that he’s not _actually_ a pet, but a real human who will make fun of him if he starts acting with him like he’s a real fox. 

Still, his ears don’t lie and Akaashi’s deep scratches on his back almost make him yap in contentment. His tail moves happily. Akaashi doesn’t stop. 

They don’t talk about it in the morning.

Sometimes, when his two roommates are fast asleep, or out doing whatever they’re doing, Osamu allows himself to turn back in his human form, squeezing Akaashi hard in his arms, holding him tight against his heart.

They do it once, twice; and soon, they end up sleeping together most nights, Osamu hidden under the covers, with only his little face visible from under the blanket, and Akaashi wrapped around him, to shield him from his roommates’ eyes. 

If his roommates notice him staying in bed longer than before during the week-ends, sometimes staying there even after they’ve both left the room, they don’t question it. Maybe he’s finally catching on the restless nights he spent watching the night sky for the past four years. 

_Good for him._

\---

A few days later, Konoha is whining. 

Do you know what’s worse than Konoha’s whines? Konoha whining your name directly in your ear. 

Akaashi has experienced this feeling of both disgust and fear too many times. He can only wish that one day he’ll finally be immune to this terrible sound. But for now, Konoha's face is perched over his shoulder talking about _his fucking cactus Joel_ who needs some kind of special dirt. 

“I’m not the Science student here, Aki, _you_ should be getting that dirt.”

“I know but I can’t, _please.”_

“Why can’t you?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Actually, I do.”

“My ass and my legs hurt, _my entire body hurts.”_

“What did you do again-”

“You’re not asking the right question. What you should be wondering is: what was _done to me.”_

“Are you _okay?”_ he turns his head to look at his best friend, but he seems fine overall. It’s true that he hasn’t moved a lot today, but it’s Konoha: he doesn’t move unless he needs to.

“I am.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

Konoha blushes. _Konoha Akinori blushes._

This does not sit right in his head: Konoha doesn’t blush, he’s blunt and honest; he does things, sometimes dangerous, mostly stupid, but he does them with his whole beating, living heart, and so, he wears his actions, stupid or not, like a crown on his head. Konoha Akinori doesn’t blush, doesn’t shy away from Akaashi’s judgemental stare. He's usually proud of whatever he does.

“Do you want me to ask someone for help, Aki?”

“No! No, I’m fine I- asked for it.”

“You know nothing justifies violence, right?” Akaashi whispers, careful not to scare him away but Konoha pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“No, Keiji, I _asked_ for it, not like ‘I behaved in a way that triggered an unnecessary use of force’ way but in a ‘I begged for it’ kind of way, now can you _please,_ help me save Joel?”

“You asked for- you know what? You’re right, I don’t want to know.”

He knew about Konoha’s _appetite_ for impact play, but he always saw it like a few slaps on the ass and maybe one on his face because he’s annoying like that. 

Not a treatment that would make him groan every time he moves. Especially considering that Kita seems like a pretty _reasonable_ man. 

Apparently, he was wrong.

“I’ll get your dirt.”

“THANK YOU KEIJI, YOU’RE THE BEST!” 

Konoha wraps his arms around his shoulders before going back on Bokuto’s bed, and he even grimaces when he takes his book from the night stand, only moving his _arm._

“You sure it’s consensual, Aki?”

“Yes, I’m sure, one hundred percent, don’t make me explain to you how rude it is to judge someone else’s preferences.”

“I’m not judging, I’m worried about you.”

“I knew I didn’t have class today when I asked them-”

Akaashi stares, and stares, and he stares, and he turns on his heels and leaves the room. 

-

It shouldn’t be _so hard_ to find a bag of dirt for succulents and put it in a jar, right? 

It’s late morning, but no one’s in the greenhouses; maybe classes are done, or maybe it’s just empty. The sun rays pierce through the thick glass of the ceiling, making the heat inside the greenhouse almost unbearable. It’s terribly suffocating. 

Scanning his surroundings, he finally spots a table with a few plants looking like succulents, and crouches in front of it. Maybe someone left a bag of the right dirt to take care of these plants. He moves a watering can and a pushes a bag of rocks away before his eyes land on a burlap bag full of dirt with a cactus drawn on it.

Pulling the bag to bring it closer to him, he starts digging into the dirt with the shovel laying there when his eyes land on something behind it. He reaches for the piece of paper laying behind the bag. He takes a quick look at it; maybe he’ll have to bring it back to its author, or maybe he’ll just leave it on the table instead of on the floor. 

His eyes widen when he sees his name on it, though.

_Dear Keiji,_

_My parents have found out about us. I don’t know how. I won’t be able to write to you or see you any time soon. If I manage to escape and make it out of here alive, I will come and find you._

_Be safe, my love._

_Osamu_

The words are written in a messy way, like it was written in a hurried state. His heart travels up his throat immediately. He stares, and stares, and stares- he can’t run away. How can you run away from this, from an intangible piece of information? How do you run away from history, opinions and knowledge? 

You can’t. 

That’s why he stays there, on his knees, with a fucking jar of dirt in his trembling hands and his chest tightening, his throat soaring. His heart is ramming in his chest, his respiration short and harsh; he stares at the blurry words and lets the letter fall on the ground again. 

_What the fuck?_

But his eyes can’t seem to move away from the paper, can’t seem to even _focus,_ slowly getting filled with tears. _What the fuck?_ He thinks again. What the fuck is this, how can Osamu’s parents know? What are they going to do? What are they supposed to do? How is he going to manage not to look at him? How- 

_Wait._

Why is Osamu’s letter hidden here, behind an old bag of dirt?

“Akaashi?”

He tenses when he hears the door of the greenhouse open in a creaking sound. Drying his eyes and sniffing one hard time before raising his head, he finds himself face to face with none other than a worried-looking Kita Shinsuke. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, coming to stand near him but not too close, probably to give him a moment to put himself together.

“Yeah, I think I just- there's a Boggart under the table and I didn't realize right away.”

“I see. Do you need anything?”

“No, I'm just going to leave it here.”

There's nothing one can do against a lifeless being. Boggarts are just _there_ , there’s no way to fight them off, no way to kill them. They're not alive, so they can't die. 

Akaashi shivers just from looking at the letter, but manages to tear his eyes away from it to look at Kita who offers him a helping hand. But as soon as the Durmstrang student steps closer, the Boggart starts moving, feeling the new presence. It shakes behind the bag until it turns into a red envelope now flying towards them.

“It turned into a mix of both of our fears,” Kita explains, taking his wand out of his pocket. 

But he's too late and the Howler is already open, screaming, both Konoha's and Osamu's voices exploding in their ears.

 _‘Look at this, Shin! It's all your fault. You haven't been careful enough. You were just a fool believing that we could- you're fucking dangerous, I hope no one will ever have sex with you ever again-’_ Konoha’s voice spits, and Akaashi has never heard him sound so _venomous_ leaving both of them silent _._ But his attention is quickly caught when the Howler’s voice changes.

 _‘Keiji! Help me! I don't know what to do- You have to help me! Fuck. I don't know what to do. I just wish I never met you, if I hadn't met you I wouldn't have- they wouldn't have found out. It's all your fault. I hate-’_ Osamu’s voice is directed right at him; his eyes widen under the weight of the _shock._

_"Riddikulus."_

It's not Kita's voice that speaks. 

Akaashi has to hold himself against the table, blinking rapidly to try to put himself back together. It's a Boggart. Just a Boggart. It’s not _real._ But he can hear Kita's own ragged breath behind him anyway, similar to his own.

The Howler is now shaped in the form of a paper chicken singing _Despacito_ , but with Atsumu's voice. Sakusa apparently finds this hilarious, because the Boggart disappears behind the bag and stays hidden there.

"Are you two alright?" Sakusa finally asks, coming closer, putting his wand away in the pocket of his robe.

"Yeah." Akaashi manages to whisper in a small breath, finally standing straighter to look at the two other students. "Thank you."

Kita blinks, looking at the bag of dirt but the Boggart is gone.

"Yeah, thank you Kiyoomi." 

“What are you doing here?” Sakusa asks directly to Akaashi, but there’s no vindictive undertone to his questions. 

“I was looking for some special dirt for Konoha's cactus when I found the Boggart under the table.”

“Why isn't he-” Sakusa starts, probably wanting to ask why Konoha hasn't come here by himself, which is a _legitimate_ question.

“He's feeling sick,” Akaashi explains before he even has to finish his sentence.

“Oh.”

“Is he alright?” Kita asks casually, as casually as you can when being shaken up like he is. And by Konoha’s voice accusing him of hurting him nonetheless.

“Yeah. Don't worry, it's nothing.”

It's just his good luck to have encountered a Boggart in the company of someone whose biggest fear is the voice of his best friend telling him some fucked up shit. He probably could have handled the Boggart's shape mixing Osamu and a snake or Osamu and a spider. 

But Osamu coupled with Konoha? He doesn't even know how he's still thinking straight at the moment.

When he takes his leave, he nonetheless has the time to notice Sakusa affectionately putting his hand on Kita's shoulder. Their secretive smile is soft and gentle; Akaashi can’t help but to smile with them. 

After all, the purpose of this tournament aside from winning for the sake of pride itself, is to find new friends, who will be there to support you.

-

When Osamu’s small fox head peaks from under the covers, later that night, he holds tightly on to his fur, burying his face between the small ears that drop against the fox's skull in confusion. He barely registers his little paw patting his chest, too busy sniffing the tears away. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally whispers, praying for Antoine and Charles to be asleep already.

They apparently are, because they don’t even react at the sound of him blowing his nose in a paper tissue ( _allergies_ , he would have said if they asked). Osamu looks at him with his big fox eyes and whines softly, before licking his nose with the tip of his small tongue.

“That’s disgusting, you know that, right?” Akaashi whispers with a small laugh.

The fox licks his nose again anyway.

The next time he blows his nose, it’s not because of silent cries, but because Osamu foxy breath isn’t something Akaashi wants to smell in his nostrils while he falls asleep.

\---

The third task comes too fast for all of them, and the fanfare sounds ironically sad to all of them despite the happy tune it's playing. 

The labyrinth walls are high and the maze looks endless from where they stand.

The Champions only have to retrieve the Triwizard Cup in the heart of the labyrinth. 

Easy. 

But they all know this place is more than just a complicated maze. Who knows what type of dangers lays behind these tall bushy walls?

Once again, they’re stuck in a sitting position, and all they can do is _wait._

-

This task, unlike the last one, goes uneventfully. 

For them at least.

Approximately two hours after the maze’s walls have closed behind the three Champion’s backs, the trophy appears in the middle of the grass in front of the stands.

Sakusa grins at the crowd, holding the cup high towards the sky.

-

They’re all gathered in the middle of the Hogwarts gardens; this time the ceremony is held outside, and they’re allowed to wear casual clothes instead of the formal ones required for the Yule Ball. 

The fairy lights are scattered everywhere around the grass fields, illuminating faces in soft yellow lights. The stars are already shining high in the sky when Akaashi arrives. 

Bokuto asked them to stay with him for a while before going to the closing party, to thank them, drink a bit, and hug them, not necessarily in this order. 

The small reunion turned into a Beauxbâtons private before-party meaning he is pretty drunk when he arrives. 

But the good thing is: everyone more or less is. 

Konoha is giggling in Kita’s arms; Atsumu and Sakusa are shouting insults are each other in the background, but Bokuto told them earlier on that Atsumu was actually the first one to arrive in the heart of the labyrinth _(‘We all arrived at around the same time, but Atsumu was the first one to reach the cup. Then he saw Sakusa and stepped back, told him he deserved it more than him because of what he did for Osamu. When I arrived, Sakusa was already disappearing with the trophy.’)._ So Akaashi knows it’s just for the sake of it. 

“Good evening, Beauxbâtons seeker.”

Osamu hands him a glass of white wine with a grin. He accepts it with a polite smile.

“Miya.”

“We’re having a small gathering later tonight, if you want to come.”

“Of course.”

He smiles, and brings the glass to his lips. He knows he shouldn’t keep drinking; Konoha already made him drink too many shots (he still won their traditional body shots contest, ended up taking the lemon slice from between Kunimi’s teeth a few seconds before Konoha captured his from Yahaba’s mouth).

-

Akaashi goes back to the Beauxbâtons carriage with Konoha. He quickly puts some spare clothes in his bag and if his best friend grins at him when he enters his bedroom, seeing his cotton briefs on the floor, he doesn’t say a thing. 

Black lace is now wrapped around his ass, and they both know it. 

They enter the Durmstrang boat in silence. Akaashi doesn’t remember ever seeing it this _empty,_ but everyone is still out there, celebrating in the gardens. Konoha leads them to Kita’s room with the confidence of someone who’s been there many times before. 

Most of them are here already. Kita has a large room, with a mezzanine floor and a big fireplace. It’s their entire breakfast group who’s gathered here, listening to music, with Bokuto and Atsumu already dancing in the middle of the room under Sakusa’s judgemental stare.

He doesn’t even have the time to greet Osamu who’s sitting on Kita’s couch, apparently in a deep conversation with Ushijima, because Konoha already leads him to the improvised dance floor.

“KEIJI!” Bokuto welcomes him, handing him a bottle of beer. 

He opens his arms and Bokuto comes to hug him with a loud laugh- 

“You’re drunk already,” he notes, assessing his probably already reddish face.

“The body shots killed me before the party even started,” he manages to articulate.

The thing is, he usually speaks clearly when he’s drunk. Eloquence is not something you lose, especially when your life depends on it: a wrongly articulated spell might give you a pigtail, so it’s important to use your mouth correctly in any circumstances. However, the dam between his brain and his mouth is obliterated, falls as soon as alcohol hits his brain.

Konoha is making him twirl around himself, and deep down, he knows it's the worst idea ever. His mouth drank too much alcohol already, and his brain is too giddy for his sober-self’s liking. But it's too late now and Konoha is laughing, and the only thing he can do is laugh with him.

The song comes to an end. An arm comes to wrap around Konoha's waist, and with that, his best friend's eyes are captured by Kita’s. _Who’s giddy now, uh?_ He smiles at him in a way that Akaashi swears he’s never seen him smile before; and if he had no real opinion on Kita before, finding out that his worst fear is _literally_ not being enough for Konoha, hurting Konoha, made him see the Durmstrang student in a new, softer, light. 

When Kita moves a strand of hair behind Konoha’s ear, Akaashi lowers his gaze. It's too intimate for him to unabashedly stare at him. 

His eyes wander around the room. It’s only their group of friends, so he isn’t really surprised when his eyes land on Bokuto and Ushijima dancing in a corner. Aran and Sakusa are snooping around Kita’s library upstairs. The twins are in the middle of what seems like a drinking contest with Suna and Komori, but it looks like they might be losing. 

Osamu swallows the entirety of his glass in one way and slams it back on Kita’s desk before turning around, falling on the couch with his eyes closed, his forehead in his palms. When he opens them again, Akaashi realizes they merely acknowledged each other that night. 

_Time to fix that,_ he thinks.

He walks towards the couch, abandoning Konoha and Kita to their slow dancing slash deep kissing session. They don’t even seem to notice him leaving anyway.

The feeling of lace helps, but more than that, it’s the alcohol that makes Akaashi sit directly on Osamu’s lap instead of the empty space next to him on the red velvety couch.

“Hey,” he whispers, planting his eyes on Osamu's face. He grins right back at him.

Everything around him feels like it’s rounder than it really is, louder and softer in his ears, like multicoloured cotton, and his skin feels like it’s burning against his clothes, the lace leaving imaginary marks on his ass. Osamu’s arm slithers around his waist, his hand resting on his back, rubbing deep circles in his flesh, through the fabric of his shirt; _oh god,_ he feels like he's on fire now.

“Hey,” Osamu whispers directly into his ear, breath falling against the thin skin of his neck. Goosebumps travel down his spine and warmth spreads inside his body, veins almost melting under the sudden rush of arousal. 

The thumb rubbing small circles on his back is suddenly moving down, and down _and down,_ reaches the elastic of his pants. Osamu’s breath catches in his throat when he feels the lace and Akaashi just can’t keep in the whine that comes out of his throat (the dam, the obliteration, remember?). 

“Shhh don’t be so loud, or they’ll hear,” Osamu whispers in his ear, laughing gently, closer to his face than strictly necessary, voice low and almost menacing; and it just _does things to him okay?_

 _Let them hear,_ is the first thought that crosses his mind, but for all the alcohol he ingested, he still has some survival instincts left. 

He feels Osamu’s hand on the small of his back get more firm, almost digging holes in his flesh instead of just passively resting there. And when Osamu simply presses his forehead against Akaashi’s temple, kissing the side of his jaw, slides down his throat, he can do nothing but turn his head to bury it against his boyfriend’s throat, muffling another pitiful whine against his skin. 

“Can we go to your room?” he whispers against his throat, closing his eyes and resting his forehead on his shoulder; just to ground himself.

 _“Why?”_ Osamu asks innocently- _motherfucker._

Akaashi groans against the beating of his heart that he can feel in his carotid, tries to steady himself, to _calm down._ But everything’s on fire, and the only thing his brain wants to do right now is to get something to simply _touch_ him, anything (preferably Osamu). 

“Osamu-” 

He whines softly, mouth still safely hidden against his neck, the red on his cheeks carefully kept away from his boyfriend’s sight. Akaashi slides one arm around his waist, fingers gripping the side of Osamu’s shirt; the other one is now around his neck, pulling him closer to his face, so he can bury it _deeper,_ and his body is almost wrapped around Osamu’s now. 

“Yeah, love?”

 _Fucking fuck motherfucker,_ Akaashi curses internally, pressing himself closer if it’s even possible, just to- _to do what anyway?_ Not to catch his attention, he’s pretty sure it’s already on him anyway. No, what he wants, what he _really wants,_ is for him to just give him some relief, to just- _touch._ And it’s like he’s drowning, his axis completely defined through Osamu, not even hearing what’s happening around them, only listening to his boyfriend’s ragged breath, his beating heart; there’s a voice at the back of his head that tries to remind him of exactly where he is, where they are- _who’s here._

But he doesn’t care. 

Thanks to the fog in his brain and the spreading fire in his stomach, there’s nothing else in his mind than the sheer need of _Osamu._

_“Please.”_

It’s a whisper, so low he’s not sure Osamu heard him; but the man chuckles and with that, he knows that he _knows_ exactly what Akaashi’s asking for. And if it wasn’t too obvious before, a small movement of his hips is enough to make sure he’s _understood._

“Oh, you’re _that_ needy then.”

“‘samu,” Akaashi sighs. 

“Mmmh?” he hums, obviously not paying as much attention to Akaashi as Akaashi wants, because he’s not even _looking_ at him, eyes wandering around the room, watching whatever the others’ are doing. 

_Hell no,_ Akaashi thinks. 

Osamu’s not going to ignore him like that when he wants to be touched. Akaashi is, after all, an only child: what he wants, he gets. Pulling at Osamu’s neck, he parts his lips and starts leaving open-mouthed kisses on the side of his neck, leaving red marks before travelling up until he starts biting his jaw. His fingers are sprawled over his abdomen, pressing lower and lower until he’s almost touching his thighs- 

Osamu palms him through his pants. 

_Osamu palms him through his pants,_ and he presses his hand against his _very hard_ dick. 

His brain simply can’t keep up, not fully registering what’s happening. The only thing that understands what’s happening is his body, because his hips rise to get _more_ friction, more pressure. His mouth closes around the skin of his neck, muffling a loud groan as he cries out Osamu’s name. 

_“Needy,”_ Osamu laughs quietly, his hand still touching him _there,_ pressing harder, and slowly, the rush of information reaches his brain and _fuck._

_What the fuck._

They’re in a room full of people. 

Sure they’re not in the middle of the room, and their friends are probably all busy enough to not be watching them. Still, there’s a risk, a fucking great risk. He might have been fine with giving heads in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch or messy make out sessions in empty classrooms before; but they’re in the open here, there’s no door between their potential audience and them. 

Still, he doesn’t care. 

He might not be _into it_ in the way Konoha is, but he doesn’t care if they watch right now, because the only thing he cares about right now is Osamu, and Osamu’s hand against his crotch. It’s not enough, and it’s too much, and it’s just _perfect,_ because it’s Osamu and whatever he gives him will be perfect.

“You might want to be a bit quieter if you don’t want the others to notice just how shameless you are, Keiji.”

It only makes him moan louder, until he buries his face deeper in his shoulder, biting on Osamu’s shirt to keep himself from making too much noise. He never stops his hips from moving, chasing the release he knows he won’t get: not from this, not when his best friends are so close, not when anyone could _see._ But the longer it lasts, the more insecure he gets about that statement. 

Quickly, his moans turn into whines again, and Osamu laughs quietly before kissing his temple, his free hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. 

“You’re going to _cum_ here?”

 _“Nngh,”_ he moans against his shoulder because it’s the only thing he manages to blurt out. 

“Are you? No one’s watching, you know? I think Kiyoomi knows what’s happening, but he’s too busy talking to Konoha to pay attention. The others are too busy, so you _could.”_

“‘Samu-” 

It’s building, he feels it, and he’s not even _drunk_ anymore, but he’s too far gone to even care about anything else than the release that’s approaching. 

“If you keep quiet, you can do it, you know? No one will see, no one will hear.”

 _Fuck, fuck- fuckfuckfuckfuk_ is the only word that goes in spirals in his mind, revolving like rings around his Saturnian brain. It’s not only Osamu’s palm pressing against his crotch anymore, his fingers are also wrapped around his length through his clothes, going up and down- almost holding him; and he can feel the knot in his guts tighten when he starts moving faster and faster- and the lace is rubbing against the skin of his dick and _realistically,_ it’s fucking uncomfortable, itching, almost hurting, _but he loves it._

He doesn’t know how loud he is, trusts Osamu to keep him quiet or stop if someone starts watching them. He knows he’s not _quiet,_ by any means, but the music and the loud chatter is enough to cover his muffled whines. 

_“Fuck, don’t stop,”_ he mumbles.

Thank god for Osamu’s arm around his waist that’s holding him because he would probably fall over from how hard his hips are moving up now, trying to meet Osamu’s hand, chasing that sweet taste of ecstasy. 

_“Fuck- fuck fuckfuck ‘Samu I-”_

“Do it.”

“Nnngh- Aanh- _fuck!-”_

His brain is exploding for a whole second. He stills, coming right inside his pants, his face still buried inside Osamu’s neck. And it’s dirty, disgusting and _shameless,_ but he doesn’t fucking care because it just feels too good, and he can’t stop whining. Osamu’s hand is soothingly rubbing his back while he tries to regain some control over his breathing, his whines dying down as he comes back to earth.

Still, he doesn’t have the time to really put himself back together, because Osamu is already moving under him, making him stand up, his back turned to the rest of the room. His pants are fucking _stained._ The reason is pretty obvious; no one will believe him if he says he dropped water on his trousers, right? He looks down. Yeah, no. 

“‘Tsumu find another bed to sleep in tonight!” Osamu yells before taking Akaashi’s hand in his 

He leads them towards the door.

“HEY!” Atsumu yells.

“GO GET THAT DICK KEIJI!” Konoha shouts, but the door is already closing behind them.

-

Akaashi falls on his back against the mattress, and he doesn’t even have time to process what’s happening- his dick growing hard again- Osamu’s naked form above him- the hands traveling on his skin- what _just fucking happened back there._ He’s half naked already, with only his shirt and his panties left, but he’s too clumsy right now to deal with the buttons, so he just stares at Osamu, focusing on the feeling of his dick against his thigh.

Instinctively he wraps his fingers around it, moving up and down slowly as Osamu removes his shirt, before his lover groans, letting his head fall on Akaashi’s shoulder.

“Fuck- stop this, _now.”_

Akaashi keeps teasing him for a few seconds before Osamu takes his wrist and pins it above his head, bringing both his arms there.

“You realize what happened back there, hm?”

His shirt flies at the other side of the room, leaving him with only black lace covering his hard length- black lace that’s already dirtied by his own- _fuck._

“Osamu-”

“You came in the middle of a room full of people, you know that?”

_“Please.”_

“Are you okay with restraints?”

“Fuck yes- yes yesyesyes-”

“You came already, and _yet_ you’re still so needy.” 

He taps his wrists with his wand and with that, Akaashi’s arms are locked above his head while Osamu slides down his body. 

“I’ll never get tired of this.”

 _Never, never, never-_ He closes his mouth around his dick through the fabric, and it’s _dirty,_ but none of them seems to mind. _Finally,_ he thinks when Osamu’s wet tongue presses against the tip of his dick; he whines, throwing his head back, arching his back. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.”

_“Please.”_

“Please what?”

He probably would have blushed in any other circumstances, would have hesitated, but he’s past that: he came in his pants in a room full of people, so he’s past the feeling of humiliation by now.

“Fuck me.”

“Mmmh.”

“Osamu-”

“You’re lucky I’ve wanted to wreck you for hours now.”

_“Fuck.”_

He slides his panties down his legs and presses one last kiss on his thigh before making him roll on his stomach. Akaashi moans at the friction between his dick and the covers, tries to stand on his elbows but Osamu’s hand on his back keep him lowered, with his face in the pillows. He’s expecting to feel his wand against his entrance, but instead, Osamu reaches in his night stand. Soon after, it’s Osamu’s lubed finger that presses in, and he simply wails at the feeling, mouth closing around the pillow under him.

“Nnnhg-”

It’s been _so fucking long_ since he last got stretched like that- he usually doesn’t play with himself and his partners always used magic to make sure they don’t hurt him. But there’s something in the feeling of being _torn open,_ that makes him whine pitifully against the pillows, rolling his hips to make him slide in deeper, faster already.

“Shhh- don’t be too greedy, love.”

“‘samu _please-”_

“Okay, okay.”

He slides a second finger in, and Akaashi’s body starts to shake, moaning against the cushions, and the fabric is so wet already from how much spit he left there when he bit the pillow.

“Fuck-”

“If you need magic-”

_“Fuck no, don’t you dare!”_

He feels like he’s being split open, but he doesn’t mind (apparently, he really doesn’t care about anything else than being fucked at all tonight), only wants more- wants Osamu to take him apart without magic, only his fingers and his body- everything feels _so raw._

_“Fuck me now.”_

“Keiji-”

“Now, _oh god-”_

Osamu’s hand slides up to rest between his shoulder blades, pushes him against the mattress. He hears the sound of the lube bottle being squished and right after, feels the weight of Osamu’s cock against his entrance.

“Yes, yes yes _yesyes-_ ”

It’s agonizingly slow, and it’s different from magical lube- everything feels more painful, but also more real, it’s raw and perfect; his whines get louder with each centimetre that enters him, his eyes getting wetter and wetter until he doesn’t know anymore if he’s moaning or crying, but it doesn’t matter because Osamu is fully seated inside him, and it feels perfect. 

“You feel so good- wanted to fuck you for hours- _fuck Keiji, the effect you have on me.”_

He doesn’t have to ask; he sucks in a breath when Osamu starts moving, leaving him before slamming back in, in full force. He groans when Akaashi squeezes his inner walls around him, and he grips his hips so hard it makes him cry out in pain.

“You were so beautiful whining like that, helpless- gods the way they could have seen you like this- desperate-”

“I just wanted your cock- _oh god! Here- here fuck Osamu, here,_ ” he pleads, when he finally feels his dick brush against his prostate.

“Mmmh, you have it now.”

“Yes, thank _god- harder.”_

He keeps ramming in as hard as he can, his hands resting on Akaashi’s hips to keep him from moving too much. Akaashi’s mouth opens, and he moans and even Osamu groans behind him. His eyes are watering with each thrust against his prostate. And he just wants to feel him more- _deeper._

“Fuck- You’re so perfect- so beautiful- _Keiji-”_

Osamu starts kissing his neck, biting his skin, wrapping one arm around his waist. His free hand travels between his legs and around his cock- _fuck._ He’s still fucking into him, but now his fingers are wrapped around his length and the only thing he can do is cry against the pillows, gripping the sheets with his fists.

“I never want to let you go,” Osamu whispers, kissing his throat, leaving marks on his shoulders; and if he felt overwhelmed by pleasure before, other feelings are now washing over his brain- need, sadness, happiness, _love. Fuck-_

He turns his head, allowing them to kiss, sloppy and messy- but no one cares, Osamu fits perfectly inside him, perfectly drags against his prostate, making him moan desperately- 

“I love you- fuck I love you _so much_ Keiji-” he’s rambling now, “I don’t want to leave, I’m so in love with you-”

His heart explodes at the same time his cock starts twitching, and he comes with Osamu’s name on his lips and tears in his eyes. His cum lands on the sheets and his lover follows him right away, pushing one last time, spilling deep inside him. He groans in his ear, whispering his name in a pleading tone. His arms tighten around his waist, holding him close. 

Osamu buries his face in Akaashi’s neck, and if his skin is wet once he leaves to untie him, he doesn’t say anything about it, just holds him close against his chest once they’re cleaned up, kissing the crown of his head.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

-

“So, you’re a horny drunk,” is the first thing Osamu tells him in the morning with a shit-eating grin.

“Oh, please, shut up,” Akaashi buries his face in his hands, but his boyfriend only laughs fondly before kissing his temples and his naked shoulders.

\---

_july._

It’s the last Thursday before they all leave, so naturally, Akaashi goes to the Quidditch Pitch with his broom on his shoulder. He doesn’t tell Osamu, but he’s sure he’ll come anyway. 

“Figured I’d find you here,” Osamu’s voice indeed comes from behind him.

He’s still wearing the marks of their last heated meeting, and Akaashi feels his cheeks heat up at the memory. He kisses his forehead before mounting his broom.

They fly for hours, not even speaking, only throwing the Quaffle between them. They have a lot to say, but tonight’s not the right time. Tonight, they remember and celebrate the memories they built together.

Before leaving, they kiss for a few minutes, high up in the sky. The moon is shining bright above them, crescent smiling protectively as they fly down, going back to earth.

\---

A few days later, a silver hummingbird carries Osamu’s voice to Akaashi. The man is perched on Bokuto’s desk, playing with Plumeau. Konoha is laying on the floor, reading a book, only looking up at Akaashi when the owl screeches at him, angry at him for ignoring him. Bokuto’s knitting a pair of gloves in his bed, tongue out in concentration. 

Meaning: he’s not alone.

 _“Hello Keiji!”_ Osamu’s voice rings in the room, catching the attention of not only Akaashi, but all the others. _“I was wondering if you still had these red lace panties. If yes, wear them tonight! See you at dinner!”_

The hummingbird disappears.

Konoha looks at Akaashi with a wide grin. Bokuto keeps knitting but his tongue has come back inside this time. 

“I hope you still have them,” Konoha says, “Or- you know, I still have the fishnets.”

“No.”

“I bought the vibrating ones,” Bokuto informs them, still focused on his knitting movements. 

“No.” 

Konoha ignores the glare Akaashi directs at him.

“Are they good?” 

Shameless. They are _shameless._ He shouldn’t be surprised anymore. They’ve discussed sex for _years_ now, he knows everything about Konoha’s exhibitionism kink (after all, he’s been a victim of it one too many times) and Bokuto’s favourite positions (Akaashi’s fault for not knocking when he comes inside his room, he’ll grant him that). 

Just pretend to be at least a bit ashamed, for fuck’s sake! 

But they never made him talk about his activities; only made sure he was on the Potion (he was; still is, thanks for checking). Sure, Konoha would stare at him with a carnivorous grin, but he never actually _made him talk._ They probably don’t know anything about his and Osamu’s activities apart from the general assumption that they definitely have sex sometimes. They know nothing else, except for the lace thing. And it’s good that way; right?

Plumeau flaps his wings, as if he's agreeing with whatever Konoha was telling Bokuto about these magical panties. 

Should he talk about everything the way Konoha does? The way Bokuto _sometimes_ does? Plumeau hops on his shoulder and headbutts the side of his face. 

“What do you think about it Plumeau, uh?”

A soft squeak comes with another headbutt. 

He pats the bird’s back and smiles; Osamu’s message is quickly forgotten by the two others, or maybe they just collectively decide to not talk about it for Akaashi’s sake; yeah, everything’s fine. 

“Do you want magical panties, Plumeau?” Konoha grins at the bird who stares back with its gigantic eyes.

“Don’t sexualize my poor child, Akinori. Go away with your dirty thoughts.”

\---

Just before he leaves the carriage, enjoying the feeling of the lace of his panties rubbing against his skin, Konoha stops him in the middle of the hallway. His fingers tighten on his shoulder to stop him from moving.

“Oi! Keiji!” 

He turns around and accepts the bag Konoha shoves in his arms. It’s _his own_ bag and when he looks inside, he finds his pyjamas and his toiletries.

“Why?” he asks in confusion.

“Atsumu won’t be in their room tonight, so you can sleep there,” he grins, “have fun lil birdie.”

“How do you know that?”

“I have my ways, now _shoo!”_

Akaashi rolls his eyes but obeys, jumping out of the carriage, starting to walk towards the Durmstrang boat, when he notices a small slender fox silhouette coming towards him. He greets Osamu with a small secretive smile and follows him inside the Hogwarts courtyard. 

The night has fallen since a few hours by now, but it’s the end of July so the air is still warm against his skin. It’s late enough for most students to be in their common rooms, due to the curfew.

Good thing they’re adults, so they won’t get in trouble as long as they remain discreet.

“Where are we going?” he asks but Osamu simply leads him to a staircase that goes under the castle, bringing them to the basement. 

He looks around him, making sure no one’s there, before going back to his human form. They stop in front of an old painting of a green ogre with a donkey.

“‘Evening; Keiji.”

“Good evening.”

“Blue oak,” he tells the ogre who looks at him for a second before the painting starts moving, revealing an opening in the wall. “A secret passage. Sakusa showed it to me.”

The painting closes behind them, making them both cast a _Lumos_ spell, illuminating the small passage. At the end of the small hallway, he can see stairs carved in what seems like one unique block of stone. 

He doesn’t have the time to ask where it’s going because Osamu brings his wand closer to his face and smiles softly before taking his face in his hands. He leans in almost immediately when he understands what’s happening, welcoming the soft kiss when it comes, crashing against his lips. 

“I love you.”

Akaashi smiles softly.

They climb the stairs, stopping from time to time just to touch each other, to feel each other’s presence, trying to avoid the feeling of emptiness creeping up below their ribs. When they reach the top of the stairs, the door waiting for them opens in a loud creaking sound. 

Surprisingly enough, he usually watched the stars from the carriage or from the top of a hill, not the Astronomy Tower, despite the place being built exactly for this purpose. It's the first time he comes up here and the room is empty.

The night is clear that day and the Milky Way is stretching above their heads, watching them with all its benevolence. 

Akaashi naturally goes to the very edge of the room, putting his elbows on the balustrade to get a wider view of the dotted sky above. Osamu is quick to join him, slipping both his arms around his waist. He buries his face in the side of his neck and stays here for a long minute, silent, but thoughts going so wild inside his head Akaashi can practically hear them dancing between his neurons. 

“Hey,” he whispers, closing his fingers around Osamu’s on his stomach. 

“I don’t want to leave,” comes the immediate answer, like he’s been waiting for Akaashi’s voice to rise, to finally speak. “I don’t want to leave and go back there without you.”

“I know- I know,” is the only thing that comes out. He has to focus before he starts making things worse. “I don’t want to go either, but we’ll find each other again once next year is over, yeah?”

“You really want to?”

“Of course, I do,” he says, surprise reflected in his voice. 

“Oh.”

“Wait,” he narrows his eyes, turning his head, but Osamu’s face is still buried in his neck, “Did you think I'd just- leave?”

It’s not a surprise, they both danced around the topic for too long, both avoided it with the carefulness of two masters in Denial studies. After proving times and times again how open they both were, how willing to _talk,_ and _listen,_ they were, there was still one topic they refused to address completely. 

_They’re together._

Boyfriends, partners, lovers, call it what you want. 

_They,_ as one entity, is a thing. It exists, it always will, at least in their memories. If it will carry on to their future, none of them is sure about it, and Osamu apparently took that for the upcoming end of their relationship.

“I thought it'd be easier for you. To stop everything before we leave.”

“Well, maybe it would be easier. But I don't mind it being difficult, if it means being with you.”

“I don't want to be a burden to you. And I sure as hell don’t want to make you suffer.”

“Nonsense,” he sighs, buries his nose in Osamu’s hair, entertaining their fingers.

He gently kisses his forehead, trying to channel everything he feels in one small press of his lips against his skin. It’s light and soft, unlike the hurricane going through his organs. 

“You don’t have to- it's going to be- difficult.” 

But Osamu’s voice sounds weak, close to breaking, and it sounds so _fragile._

He finally turns around between his boyfriend’s arms and takes his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him in the eyes, gently caressing his cheeks with his thumbs.

“I _chose_ you, Osamu. In every battle you choose, I’ll be standing beside you. No matter how difficult.”

“Okay- okay.” 

“We’ll make this work. We have letters, and once the year is over we could- we could make it work, somehow.”

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t sound _too_ convinced, but smiles nonetheless, pressing his lips against Akaashi’s. 

“And if you have doubts about it, just look at the stars. Aran will tell you what they’re saying.”

They’ll always have the stars, no matter how far apart from each other they are, they’re still lucky enough to live under the same sky, to burn under the same sun. It might be the last time they can look at them together, but even if they’re not side by side, they still found each other in their galaxy, so that must count for something, right?

“I look at them every night. It’s my job,” he starts, “and if you look at them too, we'll be watching them together.”

“Are you trying to make me like Astronomy?”

“Maybe,” he smiles, brushing their noses against his. “I can send you my reports every now and then, to tell you what I saw, so you can understand what you were looking at. It won’t be as romantic as our Quidditch Pitch dates, but you know- it’s still something we can do together- sort of.”

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do this.”

They won't be together, but they can still share moments, create memories. After all, they still live under the same sky.

-

They don't have sex that night. They try, really, but none of them really wants it, and one of them always ends up breaking, looking for a soft embrace rather than chasing sweet release. They fall asleep in each other's arms, forehead against forehead, happy with lazy kisses and gentle touches.

-

It’s the soft light perking from behind the window curtains that wakes them both up in the morning. Osamu groans next to him but Akaashi can’t bring himself to mind being woken up by his voice, even if it’s not a pleasant sound. He slides an arm around his waist and drops lazy kisses on his chest. 

Osamu finally opens his eyes and smiles, genuine and warm; and Akaashi can tell they’re thinking the same thing. It's the last time they’ll be able to do this. 

In a long time. 

If not ever.

And so, he allows himself to fall, in the silver pits that are Osamu’s eyes. He doesn’t know how long they stay like this, looking in each other’s eyes, looking for something, anything, an answer, that would make this easier. 

“I don’t know what to do to make it bearable,” Osamu finally whispers; 

His heart feels like it’s being torn apart, slowly, piece by piece, in his chest, but he forces himself to never leave Osamu’s gaze; not when his throat becomes dry, not when his eyes start to itch from the tears that threaten to break the dam of his resolution.

“Me neither.”

“Just- Don’t cry when we leave okay? Don't cry, if you cry, I'll cry too,” Osamu whispers, helplessness visible in his eyes.

“Okay-” Akaashi sighs, and nods, more sure of himself when he says it a second time. “Okay. I’ll be right beside you, whatever you do, wherever you go, remember that, okay?”

Osamu smiles sadly, but nods.

\---

“Don't you want to say goodbye?” he asks when he spots Konoha already sitting on a couch in the main hall later in the afternoon.

“I’ve already said my goodbyes,” Konoha answers, avoiding his gaze. 

But Akaashi knows his best friend, knows he’s good at avoiding serious things, at ignoring the important things to just shrug them off later as if they’re nothing, carrying the guilt on his shoulders for longer than necessary.

“You swear you're not avoiding him?” he asks, suspicious. 

“I said goodbye to the people I wanted to say goodbye to,” he simply answers, shrugging off Akaashi’s judgemental stare.

“Aki…”

“He'll understand.”

“Doesn't mean it's the right thing to do.”

-

They're all gathered in the gardens, surrounded by many couples saying their farewells, by friends promising to write to each other.

His eyes land on Osamu who's speaking to Sakusa. But as soon as he notices him, he starts walking towards him with a closed-off expression.

Akaashi might not have the right to touch him, but he will still look at him with all the love he can put in his fucking eyes. And if they become pink from all the love he puts in there, then he's okay with it.

Osamu finally smiles.

“Travel safely, Beauxbâtons seeker.”

“You know you can call me Akaashi, Miya.”

Osamu grins and puts his hand on his arm, tightening his grip in a _friendly_ manner.

“I'm glad we got to meet,” Osamu whispers with a soft smile that almost makes his heart burst.

“So am I.”

His voice is shaky and his heart is shattering in his chest but his eyes remain dry. He won’t cry, he promised him.

"Take care."

"You too."

_Don't cry, if you cry, I'll cry too._

_I’ll be right beside you,_

_whatever you do, wherever you go._

_I love you,_

_I love you so much-_

_I chose you, Osamu._

_In every battle you choose, I’ll be standing beside you._

_I'm so in love with you._

  
  


"Goodbye Osamu."

"See you around, Akaashi."

He smiles and when Osamu's hand drops from his arm against his side, and when he turns around slowly to _hide_ and just leave, the thousands of pieces of his heart feel like they just break into thousands of other fragments until they turn to dust. 

"Shin!"

He hears Konoha's voice behind him, catching his attention. He's running towards Kita who is still talking to Sakusa and Atsumu.

Akaashi doesn't know what he tells him, what he tells them. And even if he could hear him, he'd walk away. 

It's none of his business.

But he's glad Konoha decided to say goodbye.

When he turns around to take one last look at the boat, Osamu is already gone.

\---

  
  
  
  
  
  


_And carry on_

_Just cross the waters, I'll be okay_

_‘Cause I've been loved, I've been loved enough today_

_I know your fears are hidden well beneath your wind_

_So don't be long, leave me here, let me belong_

  
  
  
  
  


\---

  
  


_december._

Akaashi parks his car in front of his parents’ house. The last days of class were _hectic_ and without Konoha and Bokuto to help him handle the stress, he simply _broke down._ Not terrible-near-death-experience breaking down, thank god, but he still, it was exhausting. 

But he’s free now, until June, that is. 

The door opens before he even has to ring the doorbell, his parents appearing in the door frame with gigantic smiles on their face. 

“Keiji!” His mother greets him with a gigantic smile, and he can’t help but to smile too. 

He melts in her embrace and smiles when his father pats his shoulder in the most affectionate display he’ll ever let his body show. They step aside to let him enter. 

Directly going to his room to leave his stuff, he quickly changes into more comfortable clothes, putting on a red hoodie reading _MIYA - 11 - CHASER,_ courtesy of Osamu for his birthday.

“I’m sorry I didn’t manage to come back earlier,” he says walking down the stairs, “I tried but my last exam was this morning, then I had to pack and drive-”

“It’s alright honey, you’re here now, aren’t you?” his mom says with her signature elegant smile. 

It’s true, it might be ten in the evening already, but at least, he’s here for the 24th, which isn’t something that happens every year, unfortunately. He puts his slippers on and plops his body on the couch next to his father. 

“I have some leftover turkey if you want.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

-

The night goes uneventfully, they talk about his studies, about Konoha and Bokuto who apparently dropped by a few days ago to wish his parents a pleasant holiday season and left a small gift for Akaashi there. 

He eats the turkey, eats the ice cream, drinks the wine and sings silly Christmas songs with his parents. 

Until the clock hits midnight, and he goes up to his room to take the presents he bought for his parents. The two gifts are at the bottom of his bag, so it takes a few minutes for him to find them. He hums _Jingle bells_ softly as he runs down the stairs, the gifts under his armpits when he notices the living room is now plunged in total darkness, with only the Christmas Tree lights blinking silently at him; red, blue, green, red, blue-

“Mom? Dad?” he calls 

But no one answers. 

Reaching for his wand, he’s about to cast a _Lumos_ when the lights are turned on again, and his parents both scream a loud _Merry Christmas!_

But it’s not his parents he’s looking at. Of course, it’s not his parents he's looking at. 

He throws their presents on the couch and walks towards Osamu who’s standing next to Akaashi’s mother, a small grin on his lips. He opens his arms and welcomes him against his chest. 

“Merry Christmas, Keiji,” he whispers against his hair, softly, so softly; and with that, _he breaks._

“Fuck,” he curses quietly.

Osamu’s arms tighten around his waist and he buries his face in his neck, inhaling deeply; and it might not smell like mulled wine, onion soup and broom wax, but it smells like _love_ all the same. His eyes are already wet when he feels Osamu’s hands gently rubbing the small of his back. He feels his lips on his temple, his nose exhaling in his hair.

“You’re really here,” he finally manages to say in a small voice, making Osamu chuckle. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

They stay like this for what seems like a microsecond, but he hears his father clear his throat, making him dry his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper. 

He takes a step away from Osamu (only a step), to look at him, at his face- he hasn’t changed in six months. Not at all. The same familiar grin, the same soft eyes who look at him as if he hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. 

“Thank you,” he turns around to look at his parents.

His father hands a glass of champagne to his son and his boyfriend. 

“Have you ever seen _The Grinch_ , Osamu?” his mother asks with a wink a few hours later, and Akaashi groans. 

Osamu shakes his head. Of course he has never seen The Grinch. That’s how they find themselves, limbs tangled in Akaashi’s bed, his laptop laying at the bottom of his mattress. He slips his hand under Osamu’s shirt, but his boyfriend clicks his tongue.

“If I don’t watch it, your mom will know it.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes and laughs. 

“You know she only said that, so we would go to bed instead of staying in the living room with them?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well then-” Osamu smiles wickedly before closing his arms around Akaashi's waist.

 _The Grinch_ keeps playing in the background, efficiently covering up the noises that soon escape their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> SO THIS IS IT, the end of the tournament year.  
> we only have the epilogue left, i'm not sure yet if it's going to be short or a 30k piece so we shall see.  
> there's one last bonus part coming as well, maybe two.
> 
> the song is from coeur de pirate, i advise you to listen to it if you wanna cry a bit! 
> 
> -teddy bears are a presence in a bed!!!  
> -akaashi: * sees Sakusa-who-never-touches-anyone pat Kita’s shoulder in a way he would call “affectionate” *  
> akaashi: yeah, they’re friends  
> with this im sure you can see where im going with my spicy bonuses  
> lmao  
> -klaudia how do you feel about choosing YOURSELF AS A WINNER????? lmao
> 
> wishing you all a merry christmas, swag gifts and swag food if you celebrate it <3


	5. adieu bientôt, adieu au revoir.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> four years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am posting just right on time, yeeha!  
> i will come back to edit this later. i hope everything makes sense, i've rushed everything in 24 hours, now im going to get DRUNK A.F. to celebrate the end of this chaotic year!  
> klaudia and elle; thank you, times and times again, for allowing me to have my mental breakdowns in your dms, i couldnt have done it without you two <3 thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> happy new year to you all, i wish you the best for 2021, may all your wishes come true and this fucking pandemic die!  
> xoxo.

\---

**EPILOGUE.**

**adieu bientôt, adieu au revoir.**

( 4 years later )

\---

_fall._

> _Keiji,_
> 
> _The lunar eclipse yesterday was absolutely swag! I took pictures with Konoha's help, I hope I'll be able to send them to you soon. I have to get them printed, according to what he said._
> 
> _Whatever._
> 
> _Kita’s house is the perfect place to look at the stars, maybe next summer you’ll be able to join us here, or the one after that, since next summer’s the Quidditch World Cup, and we might want to finally witness the Kiyoomi v Atsumu match with our own eyes. At least, I know I do._
> 
> _I might not be able to write back for a few days because I have an important project I have to work on, but don't worry, I'll be available again soon!_
> 
> _I trust Plumeau to find me anyway._
> 
> _I miss you, every day, every hour, every minute._
> 
> _Love,_
> 
> _Osamu_

Akaashi smiles down at the piece of parchment that falls on his desk. Plumeau comes to sit on his shoulder and of course, he has to stop reading to scratch the owl's tiny head unless he wants to be screamed at by a bird.

When he's done reading, he puts the paper on top of the hundreds of other letters already dangerously piling on his desk. Despite everyone’s mocking remarks, he never found the courage in himself to throw them all away after reading them. Instead, he stores them on his desk, until the paper tower threatens to collapse. Then he puts them in his endless drawer, pins the best ones on his wall above his bed side table. 

Somehow, he knows Osamu does the same. Quill in his hand, he starts writing his reply, even if his boyfriend won't read it right away, because of whatever project he's been up to.

-

The main ballroom is impressive even for someone like Akaashi who has studied in Beauxbâtons for nine years before starting to work here. After a few months working as an assistant, he immediately became a teacher after that, relieving the former Astronomy professor from her what-seemed-like-never-ending burden. 

He's been living in the castle for a decade and a half and yet, his eyes still light up like it's the first time, when they land on the crystal tears falling from the high ceilings, reflecting the light of golden candelabras. The walls are covered in golds and blues, and huge mirrors reflecting the view from the windows giving on the main fountain in the back gardens. 

It makes everyone feel small.

All the teachers are all here, waiting for the Beauxbâtons headmistress to give her traditional speech to her staff before the students arrive on the next day.

He's been teaching on his own for two years now, trying to convince even his more science loving students that they should listen to him when he talks about the moon phases. It's not a complete victory yet, but he's passionate enough to at least make them stay awake. So, he's going to count this as a win.

The Herbology professor who was already his own teacher back when he was still a student, smiles at him in a silent greeting when she sits next to him, her gigantic hat almost hitting him on the head.

“Welcome to all of you, I am happy to see you are all here on time and looking well!” Madame Chevallier says with a large smile. 

They're all here on time indeed, which is never a small win considering most of them are French, which means they apply the _quart d'heure de politesse_ policy, although more for themselves than in consideration for the host most of the time. 

Madame Chevallier replaced Monsieur De Colnet the year Akaashi graduated, leaving her place as Magical Philosophy professor empty for a younger professor to take. She immediately accepted Akaashi's request to stay as an assistant in Beauxbâtons; something De Colnet would never have done, blaming his lack of competitiveness and ambition. She's a nice enough headmistress, he thinks as he watches her talk, always here to help him with whatever struggle he faces as a young teacher.

She keeps talking about how the year's going to go (hopefully, smoothly and uneventfully, but that's a lot to ask; probably too much). The number of muggle-borns has increased dramatically during the last few years, meaning the first weeks are bound to be chaotic. But Akaashi's not scared about this. He's been there too.

“This year, we’re also welcoming a new research assistant. He will stay here for 5 years working in the Potions department, and when time comes for Professor Giacometti to retire, he will take his place as it is the custom in our Academy.”

He smiles internally.

After Akaashi became a teacher himself, replacing his supervisor after her retirement, another assistant, Maribel, went through the same path, making them the two youngest people in the staff. 

There's relief that washes over him at the realization he's no longer the _'youngest professor'_ that everyone still treats like an assistant. _That's on someone else's shoulders now._

Someone younger is coming, the new generation is here, and he'll be here to help them, mentor them, make sure they don't face the same struggles he did-

“Please give a warm welcome to Mister Miya Osamu.”

Akaashi's eyes widen. He blinks rapidly, vision focusing on the stage. Then, he turns his head slowly to look at the person now standing next to Madame Chevallier. 

_What the fuck._

He can’t even bring himself to clap with the rest of the staff, too busy looking at his boyfriend who’s now looking directly at him with a familiar grin on his lips. _Surprised?_ His eyes ask him.

The first thought that goes through his mind is of course that Osamu is _still so fucking handsome._ Seeing him, in flesh and blood, will always make his heart miss a beat. They haven't seen each other for a year, and he hasn't really changed that much, but seeing him in formal clothes after being accustomed to being with him on vacation, it takes him back to their first dates, the first time they met.

Well, he certainly wasn't expecting that.

They discussed the possibility before, an unattainable dream that Osamu brought up a year ago, saying he might as well come to France instead of staying in Poland. But he never thought it would _actually_ happen.

Now that he thinks about it, though, Osamu always talked about _when he’d finally come to France,_ about a job that was waiting for him here. But they seemed like bottomless dreams to him, especially when written on old parchment paper. For a long time, Akaashi only saw these promises as a way to remind him they would find each other back, one day, that they still had a chance, despite only seeing each other once a year. 

Well, he was wrong, apparently.

Osamu politely smiles at the staff before walking down the stage to go sit a few seats away from Akaashi. Half of his brain is already fighting his face to try and avoid looking at him too obviously. But his heart is already beating hard inside his chest, threatening to jump up his throat.

“I’m counting on all of you to make this year memorable. I will see you tomorrow for the first day of school. Our first years are arriving at nine o’clock to meet with their head teachers. Class will start on Thursday once everyone has arrived. We’re expecting the last train to arrive on Wednesday from Switzerland. In the meantime, have a good evening.” 

This time, Akaashi finds the cerebral cells to clap, as he watches the headmistress walk down the stage, brain still trying to process what exactly just happened.

“Do you want wine? I heard they changed the supplier and that this one is better than the one from last year,” the Herbology professor asks him with a wink as she stands up to go to the bar where glasses of many colourful drinks are awaiting. 

“Yes, thank you Dorothea.”

As soon as the old woman leaves, he finally allows himself to look for Osamu in the crowd. Of course, he’s talking to Mr. Giacometti who’s nodding solemnly at something he says. The old crow used to sigh very loudly at whatever Akaashi made, because he was, indeed, a terrible, terrible potion maker. _Good thing you had Akinori to help you,_ he once told him after he became a professor himself. Always a nice thing to hear.

“Keiji!” Giacometti probably notices him staring because he gestures at him to come closer with a glint in his eyes that make his internal red alarms turn on, “have you seen Akinori during the summer? I wanted to hire him as my assistant, but he told me he’s doing fine on his own in _the Alps,_ can you believe he settled for _the Alps?_ Well, whatever, I found someone else,” he pats his new assistant’s shoulder in a paternalist gesture. But Osamu doesn’t seem to mind, only smiling politely and _is he blushing?_

As awkward as the entire situation might be, Akaashi can’t help but find this _incredibly endearing._

“Yeah, Akinori is in the Alps, he’s working with the dragons and as a healer for the people who live there. I haven’t seen him much this year because I went on a road trip with Koutarou during the summer break. But he’s doing fine.”

“Oh! Koutarou! Still as energetic as always I believe?”

“More than ever,” Akaashi smiles, thinking about that day Bokuto dragged him to the beach to play Muggle volleyball simply because it looked fun, despite Akaashi's horrified groans.

When Giacometti finally leaves them alone, leaving the _younglings_ to learn to know each other _more,_ Osamu finally stops avoiding his gaze.

 _One must be blind to not see what’s happening,_ Akaashi thinks. They're _so obvious,_ he feels like his entire body is on fire and there's no way no one notices it.

But no one’s looking and his lips just move on their own accord when he smiles, fighting his instincts to _not kiss him right here._ He wouldn’t be able to hide the warmth spreading inside him even if he tried, smiling so bright he’s sure it must be reflected by the crystals hanging from the ceiling.

“Beauxbâtons seeker,” Osamu finally whispers with a grin. But there’s nothing but fondness in his deep silver eyes.

“I told you, you can call me Akaashi, Miya.”

“I think I just might.”

He raises his glass with an amused smile when Dorothea finally comes back from the bar with Akaashi's own glass.

-

A pile of broccolis is staring back at him, as he sighs, playing with the vegetables with his fork. He barely slept last night, too stressed about that article he was about to publish. He had ended up laying his Osamu's bed, eyes wide open while his boyfriend was sleeping beside him.

“Akaashi?” 

They're sitting in the teacher’s dining room, Osamu across from him when Maribel comes to stand next to him, her blond eyebrows furrowed. 

The three of them being the youngest staff members, they usually eat together, a habit Akaashi and Maribel had even before Osamu’s arrival.

“Morning Maribel,” he replies, “how are you?”

“How are _you?”_ she retorts as if he should _know_ what she's referring to.

“I’m good, thank you?”

His tired eyes finally leave his plate to look at her, growing more and more suspicious as he notices the seriousness in her gaze, the hands on her hips, her concerned frown. 

_What now?_

“I’ve noticed something.” _Uh-oh,_ it’s the Konoha tone. He shivers, “you haven’t received any letter from your boyfriend since the beginning of the year, have you two broken up?”

His eyes directly leave her face to go back to the plate to try to hide the blush that spreads on his face. Across from him, Osamu discreetly chokes on his water. 

Of course, after years of getting a letter almost every day from Osamu, Maribel would notice he's stopped writing. Why didn't they think about it?

“I- uh-” he starts

“You wanna talk about it?” Maribel asks with concern in her voice.

“Yeah, Akaashi, if you need someone to talk to, we’re here,” Osamu finally says. 

And the asshole has the audacity to _smirk._

 _Give me a hand, here, idiot,_ he tries to say with the murderous glare he sends him, but Osamu simply laughs and goes back to his food as if he wasn’t directly _involved._

His cerebral wheels are twirling at full capacity, trying to find an excuse. Should he say they broke up? Say they're too busy to write to each other? Tell _the truth?_

“I’m good, thank you, we’re- we’re just- he’s busy with this new project of his.”

Maribel looks at him, squinting her eyes as if seeing fewer portions of his face was going to help her determine if he’s lying or not. 

“I’m _fine,_ Maribel, thank you.”

“Okay.”

She finally sits down and tears a piece of baguette under Osamu’s very much amused gaze. 

“And you Osamu? What’s your status? Any girl or boy you’ve been shagging recently?”

Osamu's blush reaches his ears. It’s Akaashi’s turn to laugh until Osamu starts speaking, talking to Maribel about his own fantastic boyfriend that he loves very much because he's so sweet and handsome and the best person he ever met. And it's a wonder how Maribel didn't actually notice Akaashi's own red face because he can feel it burning. 

“Yeah, I really love him. And since I'm living in France now, I might ask him to marry me one day.”

This time Akaashi simply stands up and leaves before he starts combusting right there right then.

\---

_winter._

> _To my dearest Keiji,_
> 
> _Why did Maribel send me a long letter asking me if you were alright and if you broke up with your boyfriend? She seemed really worried about you, so please give me some explanation here. Do I need to bring Kita's axe to take care of someone?_
> 
> _Did something happen between Osamu and you?_
> 
> _I hope you're ok. If you don't reply by tomorrow, I will come to save you._
> 
> _love u a lot!_
> 
> _xoxo as they say,_
> 
> _the king of swag,_
> 
> _akinori_

When Kita's eagle brings Konoha's letter to his desk is when Akaashi understands that the situation has to be fixed in one way or another. 

Sighing, he pats the magnificent eagle's head and folds the paper. Why did his friends have to be like that?

-

The nights are cold now, and since he doesn’t have to look at the stars to know exactly where they’re going, he'll gladly stay inside next to the fireplace. He’s sitting at his desk in his office instead of freezing on the roof for once, looking at Konoha’s letter, half amused, half worried. It’s not that he minds hiding his relationship with Osamu, but the risks of being discovered are increasing with every passing day. 

They've been careful, but are still sleeping in each other's room every other day, not even trying to be discreet when Akaashi leaves Osamu's room before going to class. After all, Akaashi is still walking around the castle with a MIYA 11 hoodie, except it's usually late a night with no one here to witness it.

Retrieving a piece of parchment from his desk drawer, he starts writing a long detailed answer to Konoha because he definitely doesn't want his best friend to barge in his office. And if the answer is not long enough, or satisfying enough, there is still a risk that he might come anyway.

Being a former student, Konoha unfortunately knows all the secret passages and has earned a lot of favours from their professors, meaning he can still walk around the castle pretty much without consequences, as if he was still a student in these grounds.

But a small knock on the door catches his attention before he has the time to start.

“Yes?”

“Hey.”

Osamu closes the door behind him before looking at him with surprise painted all over his face at the _normal_ state of his office. 

“Aren’t you going back home for Christmas?” he asks with confusion.

 _Oh, yeah. That._

It’s the last day before Christmas break and most of the staff is currently packing, Osamu included, since he’s carrying a heavy suitcase with him. He abandons it near the door before coming to sit on Akaashi’s desk, directly on Konoha’s letter.

“Hey!” Akaashi objects with a quiet laugh, but his boyfriend ignores his protestation, “my mom won a trip to Canada for the Holidays, so they both left a few days ago already. But it’s no big deal, I’m fine with chilling in my bedroom.”

“You can come with me already if you want,” Osamu suggests with a serious look.

“But aren’t your parents-” no matter how much time has passed, the Miya parents are still the same bunch of assholes they were back when they first met.

“I can tell them you’re a friend?” Osamu shrugs like it’s _nothing,_ making Akaashi's blood run cold.

“And that I’m a pure blood?” Akaashi suggests with a bitter humourless laugh.

“Half blood would be enough.”

 _Half blood would be_ **_enough._ **

Well, he’s not even close to being one. _How unfortunate._ He sighs, gritting his teeth.

“I- Thank you, I appreciate it, but I won’t- if people aren’t okay with who I am, then I’m not the type to throw myself into a shark’s mouth. Not even with a shark’s disguise.”

“Keiji-”

“I’ll come on the 26th like we’ve decided, for your sister's party, but I’m fine with spending the 24th and the 25th just _sleeping,_ it’s fine, I swear.”

He looks at his boyfriend with all the seriousness he can muster, trying to convey all the _happiness_ he feels just from thinking about sleeping.

“You promise?”

“Yes. Sleeping time is the best gift anyone could give me actually,” he jokes with a friendly pat on his chest. After the end of the first trimester, he could indeed use some sleep. A lot of sleep.

“Okay.”

“Now, move, I have to reply to Aki before he apparates here with a knife.”

“Oh, is everything alright?” Osamu hops off the desk, throwing a glance at the letter Konoha just sent with a curious look.

“He’s worried.”

“About what?”

“About you and me. Maribel is worried about me and asked him if she should do something or just leave me be. You know, since my _boyfriend_ stopped sending me letters.”

“Oh.”

Osamu smiles softly, now standing behind Akaashi. He gently massages his shoulders, resting his chin on the top of his head, humming softly.

“You know, we could tell them,” he suggests, voice soft and thoughtful, but carelessly, like he just suggested they should change the bed sheets.

_What?_

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It’s been what? Five years? I think it’s time to be honest when people ask us if we’re seeing someone.”

“You’re sure about this?” Akaashi insists, tone gentle.

He hears a long sigh above him before he feels Osamu’s lips in his hair. There’s no urgency in making their relationship public. Not on his side at least. They’ve been together for almost five years and their closest friends all know already, so it's not like he feels the need to tell anyone else right know. But there’s still this tiny flicker of hope inside him that he can’t seem to extinguish, reminding him he always wanted to just _hold hands_ in public one day.

“I guess? Every time I hang out with Kita or 'tsumu, and I see how they’re all so free about whom they’re dating- I wonder why I just can’t do it too. I mean, Atsumu is a celebrity and no one seems to really _care.”_

“It’s fine if you don’t-” 

“Nah, we’ll tell her after Christmas.”

“Okay.”

Akaashi feels Osamu’s hand wander from his shoulders to the nape of his neck, gently pressing on the nerves at the base of his hairline, making him moan loudly. _Too loudly._

“Careful or someone’s gonna hear.”

“Funny how you didn’t care about this last night,” he teases, sighing happily when Osamu leaves a trail of kisses on the side of his throat.

“My bedroom is soundproof, I made sure of it, thank you very much.”

“What makes you think my office isn’t soundproof, uh?”

“Interesting,” Osamu whispers, hands wandering under his jumper. 

He'll send the letter to Konoha tomorrow, and if he forgets about it, at least he won't be alone for Christmas.

-

On the 26th, as promised, he arrives in Poland to celebrate Christmas with Osamu's childhood friends and his sister. He's standing next to Sakusa who was obviously invited by Atsumu, in the middle of a small crowd when Osamu waves at a woman with dark hair walking their way. She introduces herself as Miya Izumi, the twins' infamous older sister.

“You look beautiful,” he politely tells her when she joins them in the entrance hall of the Haiba manor. 

It’s true though, her hair is pulled back in a high intricate bun that leaves her long neck bare, for a lot of people to drool at. And even Akaashi has to admit the Miya genes must have something special for the three of them to be so attractive.

She looks at him with a bright smile, so strikingly similar to the one he’s seen so many times on Osamu’s lips it surprises him. He only met her a few minutes ago, but she already winks at him with the side look of someone who knows your deepest secrets. Maybe it's a Mind Healer thing, or maybe Osamu gold her too many things already.

“Thank you Keiji! See boys? This is how you should greet me from now on,” she pointedly looks at her younger brothers who mumble something about her looking _really good, yeah, sure._

Thanks to the Beauxbâtons tradition surrounding Christmas balls, he doesn’t feel too out of place in the middle of people dressed in obnoxious dresses adorned with diamonds and other luxurious fabrics. 

“It’s a private party. Only people we trust are invited. If anyone says anything about what happens here to someone else, we'll know about it and there will be consequences. So you're all safe but also, be careful about that,” she warns them before waving at a woman who’s already walking their way. “It’s the only way we found to ensure whatever happens during the Haiba parties stay at the Haiba parties.”

“I see.”

Izumi winks before leaving with the other woman.

Atsumu and Sakusa follow her, walking side by side and Akaashi feels a rush of anxiety at the thought of having to walk in without a partner when Osamu clears his throat next to him, offering him his arm with a small secretive smile. Akaashi accepts with a nod, unable to hide his surprise. The gesture is so simple and yet feels so intimate it feels like they're making out in public when they're just- _walking._

The Haiba manor has nothing to envy to the Great Hall at Hogwarts, with its high ceilings and the shiny ice sculptures. The red carpet leading to the main ballroom does look like it’s embodied with gold, and the stairs are most definitely marble. Suddenly, Akaashi can’t help but wonder what the Miya residence must look like. Probably something as insanely luxurious as this, considering their families have been friends for generations.

“Akaashi! What a pleasant surprise!” Alisa Haiba appears in front of him, beautiful as ever, closing her arms around him in a warm embrace. “You have to at least grant me one dance!” 

Akaashi never thought he would find Alisa Haiba's bubbling presence comforting, but her arms around him feel familiar and a tiny bit like home, for reasons he can't really explain. He hugs her back with a soft smile on his lips. They only ever talked once or twice after the Yule Ball, but there's no doubt about the platonic but no less real affection he feels for her.

“If Osamu’s alright with it, of course.” She winks, making Akaashi blush. 

“Of course, of course,” Osamu shrugs, looking at Akaashi with unhidden amusement, “I can get past it for old time’s sake. And considering how many times I've danced with you, Alisa, maybe it's only fair for Keiji to get one more dance.”

“I haven’t got any better at dancing though-” he warns him with a grimace.

“Akinori told me you liked to be lead, don’t worry, _I’ll lead you!”_

She takes his hand in hers and leads him to the centre of the ball room, ignoring the curious glances many people give them. The room is not _packed,_ but there are way too many people staring at him right now for him to be comfortable. 

“Breathe, Keiji, it’s fine. And don’t look at your feet!”

He laughs quietly, trying to obey, letting her lead them across the room, her dress floating around her as she twirls, and she laughs, airy and free; he can only naturally laugh with her, smiling sincerely as he follows her graceful steps, until the song stops, quickly replaced by another one. 

“I’m glad you two made it work,” she says, looking at Osamu with an almost sad smile, “he was my best friend when we were younger. I'm happy he's happy.”

He tilts his head, but she only smiles, maybe a bit sadly, before her eyes start shining with amusement again. And he can't help but wonder how many secrets their families have to hide, how many things they share that will never be understood by other people.

“So am I. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

“Oh, you know, they come and go,” she laughs with a shrug and winks at him before patting him on the shoulder with her perfectly manicured hands. Tonight, she’s wearing red. “Enjoy the party, and if you want to have fun _in private,_ there are empty rooms for our guests to use upstairs!” 

Akaashi’s eyes widen at the explicit suggestion, but he still nods slowly, _whatever._

He’s standing alone in the middle of the ballroom for a few seconds, looking at bodies dressed in heavy fabric twirling around him. 

“May I have this dance?” Osamu asks from behind him with a teasing light in his eyes. They both feel how important this is though, the enormous weight that rests on this single dance. There's no coming back from this.

“Gladly,” he murmurs, putting his hand on Osamu’s shoulder, the other one on his waist, pressing his body against his.

And it might not be in _public;_ but four years after their first dance, hidden from everyone else’s eyes, in the privacy of Osamu’s bedroom, he can’t help but feel like dancing somewhere people could see them- it counts for something. 

It counts for a whole damn lot. 

Osamu’s laugh isn’t as airy and free as Alisa’s, but it’s sincere, and bright. Maybe he doesn’t kiss silly him right there and then, but it still counts. 

They only ever leave each other to switch partners for _one_ dance. Akaashi destroys Atsumu’s feet and Osamu grins at them with Kiyoomi in his arms. 

“I like you Keiji, but I think I’m going to hand you back to my brother. No offence.”

“None taken,” Akaashi laughs, falling back into Osamu’s welcoming arms with fearless laughter. 

They keep dancing until the sun rises, never looking at anyone else but each other. And if someone notices, none of them cares.

He follows Osamu’s steps, sliding on the wooden floor like it’s made of clouds, and he’s flying above the ground. Maybe it’s the glass of champagne, or maybe it’s the euphoria of finally being able to enjoy the feeling of simple things he’s kept hidden for so long, but as long as he follows Osamu, and only Osamu, Akaashi finds out he can dance confidently without stepping on his partner’s feet.

-

The snow is covering the ground of the castle's courtyard when the Portkey brings them back to Beauxbâtons. The cold wind is biting their cheeks unforgivably, and their hairs are already wet, although they only just appeared in front of the typical Chambord-style castle.

But it’s not the humidity of the air or how strong the wind is blowing, making it hard for them to even walk, that catches their attention. No. It’s Maribel’s apparition right in front of them, a Portkey in hand, and her widened eyes that makes both their hearts sink inside their chests. 

“Uhm,” Akaashi starts, trying to think of an excuse as soon as his eyes settle on her.

She looks at them with unhidden curiosity, ready to ask what the hell they were doing together during the Holidays when Osamu cuts her off, taking a step towards her. 

Osamu inhales deeply.

Akaashi stops breathing.

“I’m the boyfriend,” Osamu blurts out, and Akaashi’s brain automatically gets ready to go to war, “I’ve been the boyfriend all along, that’s why the boyfriend stopped writing, because I’m the boyfriend.”

The wind keeps blowing, carrying his words with it. And time seems to simply stops for a second, the weight of his words sinking in.

Maribel looks like she’s about to faint from the shock, but apart from that, it goes well. Once her eyes are back to their normal size, she starts laughing, and she laughs and she laughs. Her laughter is contagious because they soon end up laughing with her, crouching in the snow.

_(‘I didn’t expect you to just- let it out like that’ Akaashi tells him later, still laughing at the memory of the whole scene._

_‘I’ve dreamt about telling her for months, Keiji. Each time she brought up the boyfriend- I got jealous- of myself! I just- I couldn’t hold it back any longer.’)_

\---

_spring._

> _Dear Osamu,_
> 
> _Could you brew a cauldron of Amortentia for Thursday morning’s class for me, please?_
> 
> _Best regards,_
> 
> _Mr Giacometti_

Akaashi reads the letter laying on Osamu’s bed, thinking about that time Konoha talked to him about using Amortentia in bed and smirks.

“Do you think you can brew a bit more?” he asks innocently, making Osamu blush immediately. He isn’t the only one who thought about Konoha and Kita’s advice, apparently.

-

The sun is finally shining again, and it’s the first weekend they can enjoy outside without ending up drenched to the bone. The flowers in the castle’s gardens are blooming, and Osamu is crouching in front of a rose bush, admiring the red colour of one particular flower. Akaashi’s eyes are caught by the bumblebees buzzing around them before Osamu starts speaking softly.

“My mother used to grow these in our garden,” he muses, looking at the rose with a soft smile on his lips, “we have this huge rose garden back home. She can spend hours there, just looking at them.”

Akaashi crouches next to him, softly rubbing the small his back, like he always does whenever Osamu talks about his parents. They rarely talk about it, dancing around the topic until they find each other laying in bed at night, and Osamu starts to talk, voice wobbling. But he never breaks down, not for this, only growing colder and colder each additional time he talks about them; but this time might be the first time he ever saw Osamu talk about his mother with a sincere smile on his lips.

“I’ve given up on them a long time ago,” he continues, brushing the petals with the tip of his fingers, letting his head fall on Akaashi’s shoulder, “I hadn’t realized it at first, but I don’t care as much as I once did.”

The smell of roses has never been so sweet as it is right now, with warmth spreading in his chest and a smile appearing on his lips. And it doesn’t even matter if students are walking around the gardens, if other professors could see them. Osamu speaks anyway.

“As long as I have Atsumu and Izumi, I’ll be fine. And if they want to cut my funds, I still have my life here, and this is not going to change, even if they freeze my bank account.”

His eyes finally leave the rose in front of him to meet Akaashi’s gaze. The certainty in the familiar silver pools almost looks threatening; _let them come, I’ll be ready,_ his eyes scream.

“The older they get, the more likely they are to just- to just turn a blind eye to it. With most things they don’t like, they just convince themselves they don’t exist. A few years ago, they might have rejected me, or ‘Tsumu, but now? They’d probably just- just- _I don’t know.”_

His hand falls by his side, leaving the rose for it to stand on its own accord. He sighs, eyes lost on the grass underneath them.

“There’s no way they haven’t heard of Atsumu and Kiyoomi’s relationship. They’re not even hiding it anymore, everybody knows about it. I’m sure they know. But as long as he doesn’t bring it up, or doesn’t bring Kiyoomi home, they’re fine with pretending he’s still their _straight_ golden boy who will eventually come home to work for the Ministry of Sports.”

This time, he laughs bitterly; maybe they’re still expecting him to work at the Ministry too, maybe they're still expecting both their sons to marry a nice pure-blood woman with blond hair and blue eyes.

“They’re going to pretend we’re the same person they wish we were. Even if it's a lie. And I guess I’m okay with pretending. And so is Atsumu, so is Izumi, and so are Aran, Lev and Alisa. It’s been like this forever in our families. Every stain, every unusual thing was just _ignored_ until it became almost invisible.” 

He stands up, looking at the couple of students running after each other behind the bushes, the ones splashing each other in the fountain, and he smiles, staring at the sun.

“Atsumu is right. If they’re so good with pretending, then we will let them pretend. If they want to pretend, that’s on them, but we won’t. Even if we have to be rejected by the last Nordic Pureblood Dynasties, well _fuck them.”_

Akaashi has barely the time to smile before Osamu turns his head and kisses him for the first time for anyone to see, holding his face between both of his hands, with the smell of roses around them and the sound of children laughing in the background. 

He can already imagine what his amortentia is going to smell like now, a sweet mix of roses and onion soup, and so he starts to laugh, and Osamu laughs with him, kissing him freely on the mouth, on the nose, on the forehead. 

It feels like a first kiss, probably because it is; the first kiss deprived of any sign of guilt, shame or regrets. And Osamu doesn’t look like he’s going to stop kissing him like that anytime soon.

-

It’s almost eleven when the hummingbird appears above his head, flying down to deliver Osamu’s message. Akaashi is laying on his bed, playing with his old golden snitch, barely awake, but he listens to it anyway.

“I’m sorry the meeting took so long, you can still come to my room if you want.”

Half of him really wants to go, but right now, he’s so close to falling asleep, and Osamu’s room is _across the hallway_ and it’s _so far._ Meaning another half of his brain really doesn’t want to go, just wants to stay in his bed. 

Grabbing his wand, he authoritarianilly makes his own brain focus on happy thoughts, immediately remembering the last time they went to the rose garden, remembering Osamu’s smile, the kisses he left on his face. 

The silver thread of light escapes the tip of his wand before a familiar silhouette appears. 

But it’s not the one he’s expecting to see. 

Above him, a silver hummingbird is now flying happily, his little wings flapping so fast he can barely see them move. His heart misses a few beats at the sight.

_“Fuck.”_

Every thought of staying in bed leaves his brain as soon as he realizes exactly what’s happening. 

The hummingbird ends up disappearing when Akaashi stands up, rushing through his clothes to put on a pair of sweatpants and Osamu's hoodie, before running towards his boyfriend's room. 

He doesn't even knock, simply enters, shock still painted on his face. His boyfriend is still dressed in normal clothes, meaning he probably just came back from his meeting. 

“Osamu!”

“That would be me,” he looks at him with a mocking smile.

“You’re not going to believe- You- What-”

“Calm down, love,” he laughs softly, taking off his jacket and his shirt, leaving him with only his pants on.

“My Patronus- I was going to reply to your message and my Patronus- it has changed!”

“Oh? What does it look like now?”

Patronus forms changing isn’t really that common _,_ but it’s not rare either. It happens. Especially to people who learned to cast one at a young age, meaning they are bound to mature eventually, making their Patronus form grow up with them. But what happened right there- it's wizarding romance at its peak.

“Take a guess.”

“I don’t know- you’re excited, so it must be an impressive one- I don’t know, an elephant?”

“It’s a hummingbird,” he says, unable to stop the laugh that comes from his chest. _It's a hummingbird._

 _My happiest thoughts, my happiest memories, they're about you, they're yours._

That's what it means.

Osamu stops mid-air in the process of removing his pants, raising his head to look at him, surprise all over his face before it's replaced by sheer fondness. 

“You really love me that much, uh?”

But even the mocking tone isn't convincing enough to hide the emotion in his eyes. Akaashi sticks his tongue out, but still accepts his boyfriend’s embrace once he has managed to finally remove his pants. 

“Of course I do.”

Osamu laughs, kissing him everywhere, leading them towards the bed.

\---

_summer._

> _Dear Osamu and Keiji,_
> 
> _How are you? Since we have both been selected for the Quidditch World Cup, we were allowed to distribute VIP tickets for the main games. Bokuto will send you the ones involving the French team soon._
> 
> _Please find attached the VIP tickets for the:_
> 
> _\- England v. Norway game_
> 
> _\- Poland v. Kazakhstan game_
> 
> _\- Quarterfinals_
> 
> _\- Semifinals_
> 
> _\- Finals_
> 
> _The dates and hours of the games can be found on the attached flyer._
> 
> _See you soon,_
> 
> _Kiyoomi & Atsumu _
> 
> _PS: we added the catalogue for merch._

-

The air is teeming with life, flowing with the buzzing atmosphere inside the stadium. Both the Polish team and the English team have reached the Finals, meaning the tension is peaking inside the VIP area. 

Sakusa and Atsumu managed to get tickets for all their friends who are now reunited in one place, trying to guess who's going to win the game.

“Keiji! You’re in the VIP section? How come? _AND AKI-chan!”_

Akaashi rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. He’d recognize this voice wherever he is, even in death, after being tormented by it for _so many years._

Here, in front of him, now stands his former captain, the one and only-

“TOORU! IWA-CHAN!” Konoha screams when he finally looks at who just entered.

Oikawa Tooru curiously looks at him, signature grin plastered on his perfect face, Iwaizumi walking next to him, only waving at Akaashi with a sorry smile. But he doesn’t even have time to greet them properly because Konoha is already jumping from his seat to welcome the two French players with open arms under Kita’s curious gaze.

“Sorry about that,” Akaashi mumbles

“Yeah, sorry about him,” Iwaizumi answers

They both laugh at the awful reminder that even after years of not seeing each others, things haven't changed.

“I know you were wearing Washio's number,” Oikawa looks at him with a frown but shakes his head with a wicked smile, “but I'll forgive you if you tell me how you got into the VIP section, Keiji.”

“Tooru-” Iwaizumi starts

“I got the tickets from Atsumu.”

“Miya?”

“Yeah I'm uh-”

 _No more lying to people who ask, Keiji,_ he reminds himself.

“I'm dating his brother.”

“KEIJI. YOU ARE DATING SOMEONE?”

Of course this would attract everyone's attention, especially Osamu who raises his eyebrows, silently asking if he needs help. Akaashi simply shakes his head before turning back to Oikawa.

“Yeah, have been for five years.”

“I can't believe my son is now a man!”

“I was already an adult when you left Beauxbâtons, Tooru.”

“The British colours look good on you,” he ignores Akaashi's statement, looking at Sakusa's number on his shirt.

After Poland beat France during the Semi-finals, all the French people decided they would now root for England, meaning both Konoha and Akaashi are now wearing Sakusa’s jersey, which obviously sparks a lot of joy inside Oikawa. 

Bokuto is no exception. Switzerland didn’t get to play during the tournament, so he ended up wearing Ushijima’s number since day one, in obvious support for his soon-to-be husband. 

The Polish supporters are way fewer, with only Osamu and Kita who both chose to wear Atsumu’s big 11 number on their backs. 

Despite wearing Aran’s jersey, Suna still decided he would wear a hat with Komori’s face on it that sings _God save the Queen._

“I'm glad you're not wearing the Miya's number though because this asshole's throws are _illegal._ Well, I hope Kageyama wins tonight so I can crush him next time we play against England! I have to go back to my seat, the match is about to start. See you soon Keiji, and you too Aki-chan!”

Behind the glass windows, both teams are now flying around the field, and Akaashi doesn’t have to see their face to guess that Sakusa and Atsumu _are_ glaring at each other with unhidden mockery.

“I don’t know how they do it,” Bokuto says thoughtfully, when he comes to sit next to him, “if I had to play against Wakatoshi, I think I’d ask to be replaced.”

“They’re professional enough, I guess,” Akaashi shrugs, but he really doesn't know how they manage to do this either.

They’ve all been waiting for this for so long that they’ve renamed the upcoming Poland v England match the _battle of the bastards,_ in a reference only few of them could understand, but the others still just rolled with it _._

Honestly, Akaashi was expecting the game to take place sooner, but the fact that both teams made it to the Final round made everything so much more _electrifying._

Seeing Atsumu and Sakusa, who are usually playing on the same team in the UK go against each other- it feels _so dramatic._ And maybe it’s because of Konoha’s influence, but the situation feels almost Dantean; and Akaashi loves it. 

The whistle blows and the supporters start to cheer.

Poland catches the Quaffle first, and with this, the game begins.

-

“I can’t believe you’re wearing Omi’s jersey, Aki,” Atsumu whines loudly for the n-th time this night, looking at Konoha with a disapproving stare.

The celebration party hasn’t died down yet, even though it’s already five in the morning. The giant room is decorated in British colours, making even Akaashi grimace at the sight. Portraits of each player are hanged on the walls, and they’re now standing right in front of a grinning painting of Oikawa.

Osamu is standing a few meters away, talking with Alisa and Lev, while Akaashi observes Konoha trying to justify his choice. Of course he was a sore loser after Atsumu scored the winning goal against France. But Akaashi also knows he was looking for _this exact_ reaction, laughing at Atsumu's jealous reactions.

“He knew I was going to win,” Sakusa appears behind Konoha, teasing his boyfriend as he puts an arm around Konoha’s shoulders with a grin, “after all, he was there at the Triwiz-”

“Omi! We’re not talking about _this,”_ Atsumu whines, putting a hand over Sakusa’s mouth with a horrified face, “I told you we both won!” 

“That’s not what it says on the trophy,” Konoha remarks, making Sakusa laugh behind Atsumu's hand.

“Don’t worry Atsumu, you’ll win next time,” Kita arrives with a glass of water, handing another glass of wine to Akaashi.

He reassures Atsumu with a pat on the back and a slow nod. Akaashi could have sworn he saw him drink at least twice as much as he did, but he’s still not losing his composure at all. Looking as dignified and wise as he always is- 

Until he looks at Sakusa and sees the arm he loosely slides from around Konoha’s shoulders, aiming for his waist, making him frown. And it doesn't matter if Atsumu still has his fingers inside Sakusa's mouth, he still looks devilish when he stares at Kita, while rubbing Konoha's ribs, until he rests his hand on his hip.

“It’s getting late, maybe we should head back to our room, what do you think Atsumu, mh?”

“I don’t think they deserve a reward, though,” Atsumu replies with a shrug, ignoring Sakusa’s obviously furious glare. 

He still has his hand on his boyfriend’s mouth; and said-boyfriend still has his arm around Konoha's waist; Kita clicks his tongue and Akaashi sighs in disbelief when he catches the sight of Konoha’s half aroused half mortified face. 

“Hey I didn’t do anything!” Konoha yells, before following his boyfriend in a hurried pace, because Kita’s already leaving with Sakusa walking beside him, not giving him the time to protest.

“That’s on you! You were rooting for the wrong team, _Aki-chan,”_ Atsumu happily trails behind the three other men, before he reaches Konoha and kisses the top of his hair in a smooch so loud Akaashi almost hears him over the music.

“But I rooted for the winner!”

“We’ll see who wins in a few hours.”

“They’re gross,” Osamu notes with a yawn.

He's holding a Martini glass full of green olives in his hand, lazily throwing one inside his mouth. 

“They’re so gross,” Akaashi agrees, watching Atsumu throw Konoha over his shoulder to carry him like a potato bag.

Osamu laughs and steals Akaashi's glass of wine, drinking half of it in one go. He gives it back to him seductively, meaning he obviously makes their fingers brush.

“Wanna go back to our room too?” 

Osamu puts another green olive in his mouth before looking at his boyfriend with an obnoxious wink. 

“I’ll make you win.”

Akaashi nods with a quiet laugh, taking his hand to lead them towards the exit. Maybe his eagerness _shows_ in the obvious way he’s almost pulling at Osamu’s arm to make him walk faster, but that’s fine; he’s drunk anyway and they both want it all the same.

“They’re gross,” he doesn’t hear Suna comment while looking at them, a glass of red wine in his hand, more for the style of it all than for the taste of his beverage.

“Want to be gross too?” Komori suggests, sliding an arm around his waist, teasing grin on his lips.

“Sure.”

-

The International Portkey brings them back directly to the castle gates in a few agonizing seconds. Once the world stops spinning around him, Akaashi immediately stumbles towards the nearest tree, trying to steady himself against it, breathing deeply. It’s the middle of the night, so the wind is cold enough to help with the nausea.

“I hate non-European Portkeys,” he mumbles between gritted teeth, “too shaky.” 

Taking a deep shaky breath, he tries to focus on the feeling of solid ground under his feet, of cold wind inside his lungs, of scrappy wood under his fingertips. The old olive tree standing tall in front of the Beauxbâtons gates probably saw things far worse than evidence of weak wizards being _sick,_ but the idea of vomiting in front of a tree so ancient it probably survived the Hundred Years’ War doesn’t sit well in his brain. 

“Aw, come on, I’ll brew you some potion to help with your stomach,” Osamu laughs softly, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

_Fucking motion sickness._

“Add some mint flavour this time, please?”

“Don’t you want something that tastes like onion soup?”

“I _will_ throw up if you do that,” he threatens him.

“Here, here, it’s gonna be alright, I swear.”

A groan from the deepest depths of his throat comes out of his mouth before he finally finds the courage to stand up straight to follow Osamu who’s already walking through the wrought iron gates, completely ignoring his internal _misery._

“Did you ask Madame Chevallier if we could move in together?” his boyfriend casually asks, sliding an arm around his waist when Akaashi catches up to him.

“Yeah, they rearranged everything while we were gone, we’re living in the East wing now.”

His stomach has finally understood he’s not standing on nothing anymore, making easier for him to speak, his tongue feeling like _a normal tongue_ again instead of a pasty mass. 

“We’ll get to watch the sun rise every morning then!” 

They climb the marble stairs in silence, enjoying the total lack of noisy students during the summer break. It’s only them and a few other teachers for now; a perfect opportunity to be grossly in love everywhere in the castle. 

Dorothea greets them with a big smile when they walk past her. She has dozens of plants levitating around her as she walks down the stairs, reminding him of Konoha.

Their new shared room is bigger than their previous individual ones, with a small living room, a bathroom and a proper bedroom that includes one large double bed for them to share. Finally. 

Since Akaashi enjoys the privilege of having his own office, the living room only comes with Osamu’s potion stuff waiting for them on his expensive mahogany desk that he took from his Durmstrang room. A pile of cauldron threatens to fall on the floor next to the armchair sitting next to the big window, making Akaashi shiver in horror but he manages to not say anything, simply letting the disastrous thing be.

The pile of Osamu’s letters he used to pin on his walls is now on his bedside table, next to Osamu’s trophies and other titles he won for being one of the most promising potionists of his country. He notices their small collection of plants and other souvenirs they brought from their trips. He puts his now signed Chocofrog cards next to Konoha's star maps; they're bearing the names of their friends who made it to their respective national teams: Atsumu, Aran, Sakusa, Ushijima, Bokuto, Komori, Oikawa, Kageyama, they're all here.

Slow music starts to fly through the room, and when Akaashi raises his eyes from Bokuto's biography printed behind the Chocofrog card he’s currently reading, with a soft smile on his lips, he notices Osamu standing next to his turntable, the same one he already had back on the Durmstrang boat, five years ago.

When he opens the window to take a look at the view, the sun is already rising, painting the sky in pastel colours before they become more vibrant, soft pinks turning into blood orange above the snow covered mountain tops. The valleys are green, and he can even see the small dots of Muggle houses forming that small village he sometimes goes to when he misses his parents. Its inhabitants are probably still sleeping, and the night is peaceful.

They should really go to sleep.

When he looks down the windowsill, his eyes land on two rose bushes growing in large pots attached to the wall. It’s the middle of the summer, so the wind is fresh without being biting cold. He still welcomes Osamu’s warm embrace all the same, rubbing his cheek against his boyfriend's when he puts his chin on his shoulder, watching as the sun rises behind snowy mountain tops. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here you go. this is the end! i am incredibly satisfied and proud of myself for finishing this fic on time, oh my god.
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yootasuke).
> 
> thank you to everyone who's been supporting me with this project, this has been hectic and ive had many mental breakdowns because of my self-imposed deadlines, but i'm happy and absolutely FUCKING PROUD of finishing this fic on time.  
> i am now finally going to start replying to your comments since i will finally have the time to do it!  
> there are two other bonus chapters coming at some point, when i have the time to work on them!
> 
> this has been a really crazy adventure, writing so many words in such a short amount of time taught me A LOT. also, considering the length of this fic, this means i have finally won the nanowrimo challenge, although it's december, which really is a damn goal for me as a writer.  
> 


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